


Round and Round

by Black_Rose_Authoress



Series: Pleasantville [10]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Genderbending, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:09:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 53
Words: 98,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Rose_Authoress/pseuds/Black_Rose_Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when friends grow older, they start to grow apart. But Gillian isn't letting that happen to her and her best friends. At least, not without a fight. Prequel to 'Just a Little Push'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is the first REALLY major work of the Pleasantville series. It was actually started after 'Just a Little Push' and serves as a prequel to that work, but I think it's best to read it first. Mainly because the introduction of Leon happens in this story. As with the rest of the early works, there are some aspects of this story that were later changed as more character development happened, although less so than the stories that came before it. So just be aware of that.

She had always loved the colour yellow.

Yellow was such a happy colour, after all. It reminded her of the sunshine and her little pet Gilbird. And it reminded her of the bright yellow daffodils that her vati would hide all over the house on her mutti's birthday; the yellow daffodils that she and her mutti would spend the entire morning searching for, giggling as they ran around, looking everywhere they could possibly think of...

Yellow had always been equated with happiness in her mind.

She supposed that it made her current actions semi-ironic.

But even a stupid school building needed a bit of happiness, right? Especially during the middle of one of the most unawesome, unhappy homecoming dances ever.

Right?

Gillian Beilschmidt took a step back and she gazed up at the newly graffitied wall. She'd used lots of yellow paint, most of it going into an absolutely enormous painting of a chick. And then underneath, she'd used her black and white paint to create a quick rendition of the Prussian flag—since Prussia was the most awesome kingdom that had ever existed  _ever_ ; Uncle Fritz had told her that and he knew everything. Plus, she'd signed it at the bottom, so everyone would know that the awesomeness had created this totally awesome piece of art.

She'd probably end up getting detention for the rest of the year for it, but she really didn't care.

"Shut up!"

The shout was loud enough to carry to where she was hiding, just out of sight of anyone who might come out of the gymnasium—which had been rather pathetically converted to a dance floor—for a breath of fresh air. It was loud enough that she was pretty sure that everyone  _inside_ the gymnasium could hear it, even over the deafening rap music currently being played by the DJ.

"Aww, little Lovi's crying now. How sad~"

"She just upset that she's not Antonio's favourite slut anymore."

Gillian scowled in the direction of the voices, shaking her spray can a little harder than necessary before spraying a stream of red paint under her name. Ugh. Why couldn't those bitches leave Lovina alone?

"I don't care about that bastard!" Lovina's voice sounded shaky, like she was simultaneously furious and trying not to cry. "And I'm not a slut, unlike you fucking bitches!"

"Ah, right. You were always too ugly for him. I bet the only reason that he hung out with your as a kid was because no one else liked you." Gillian glared at the wall in front of her, squeezing the spray can so tightly that she could feel her fingers going numb. She shouldn't go over and punch that bitch in the face. She'd promised Ludwig that she'd stop starting fights after she'd broken her arm last year...

And suddenly she heard the sharp sound of a smack.

...Fuck not getting involved. A broken arm was worth punching those bitches in their smug little mugs.

She dropped the spray can onto the ground and hurried around the building, where she saw a semi-expected scene. Lovina was standing alone, the front of her dark green dress stained with some liquid—Gill would bet any amount of money that  _that_ hadn't been an accident. Her hands were tightly clenched at her sides. Three much taller girls were standing across from her; one holding her hand against her reddening cheek, a shocked expression apparent on her face.

Gill felt a twinge of pride that apparently Lovina had been the one to strike first.

The girl just continued to stare at her in shock for a few more minutes. And then her expression twisted into something barely human, "You bitch! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Well, Ludwig wasn't going to be happy about this...

Not that she cared.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She walked forward, sliding her hands down into her jean pockets and resting most of her weight onto one leg. Pulling out her infamous 'Ain't I so cute as I stand here, about to kick your ass?' smirk as well.

For a moment, none of the girls responded. Lovina looked a little surprised, but that was all until the girl who'd been smacked—Gill couldn't remember her name, but did remember that she'd once left a fake toad in her gym locker as an April Fools' prank—suddenly smirked back.

"Oh, look, it's the albino freak. I'm surprised that you even bothered to show up, Beilschmidt." Her lips twisted up into an exaggerated grimace as she wrinkled her nose. "You too poor to afford a dress or something?"

Mm, breaking her nose would be incredibly enjoyable, really.

And she stepped forward to do just that, the two girls that had been flanking her—much bigger girls, although it wasn't anything that the awesome Gillian Beilschmidt couldn't handle—moving to meet her.

Oh yes, this would be fun.

Or it would have been, if it weren't for the sudden voice coming from the door to the gymnasium, just barely audible over the music pounding inside. "What's going on out here, mes amis? We're not getting into trouble, are we?"

Francis.

She immediately froze, gaze automatically flickering over to where the boy was leaning against the doorframe, gazing over at the girls with his usual patented 'charm smirk'. Staring at them, completely ignoring herself and Lovina.

And the girls immediately responded to said smirk by starting play with their hair and bite at their lips and pull their dresses lower. Gillian scowled and then stuck her tongue out at their backs when they turned toward him. Idiots.

Francis just smiled even wider at the attention. "Arthur, Antoine, and I were about to go back to my humble home, if you lovely ladies would like to join us?" He punctuated the invitation with a wink and Gillian could have sworn that she heard one of the bimbos actually give an audible sigh, like a girl would right before she swooned in one of those God-awful romance movies.

Okay, she was two seconds away from punching them all in the faces. At least then, Francis might actually say something to her. It'd been almost an entire year since the last time he'd acknowledged her presence in any sort of public situation. And almost three months since the last time he'd spoken to her in any sort of private situation either.

...And the worst part of that was that she had no idea why he'd suddenly decided to pretend that she didn't exist.

Except that Arthur must have something to do with it.

"Francis~?" And suddenly Antonio moved into sight as well. And Gillian automatically glanced over at Lovina. Who was now standing completely still, entire body tense...

He stood there, swaying on his feet in a way that definitely told that he wasn't entirely sober—somebody must have snuck alcohol in, probably Arthur—right arm wrapped around a girl who was giggling obnoxiously as if she found something hilarious about the entire situation.

"Franny~ I thought we were going. Arthur's getting impatient~" And now he giggled, the sound making Gillian feel sick to her stomach. Especially when her gaze flickered back to Lovina and she noticed how the girl was trembling, either from keeping her anger under control or to keep herself from bursting into tears. Maybe both.

"Oui." Francis held a hand out toward the girls. The leader—AKA: the one whose nose should currently be dripping blood all over the sidewalk—jumped forward to grab it, immediately clinging to his arm like a leech. "Let us go, mon ami."

Antonio nodded in response, and then suddenly glanced over toward Lovina.

And Gillian could see a tiny glimmer of—something—pass through his eyes. And through Lovi's.

Before he turned around, arm moving up slightly on the girl's waist as he called back, "You have a spot on your dress, Lovina."

And walked away.

...

...That was it.

That was  _it_.

For a moment, Gillian watched as Lovina just stood there, gaze fixated on the now-empty doorway, fists clenched tightly at her sides. The only sound was the pounding of the music and the laughter that managed to trickle through. Talking, laughing...

And then suddenly she spun around, Gillian catching just a glimpse of tear-streaked cheeks before she ran straight toward the parking lot, just barely managing to keep from being hit as a car pulled out of a parking spot. 

Damn it.

Damn it.

She fisted her hands in her pockets and then hurried around to where she'd dropped the cans, reaching down to scoop them into her arms.

Why the hell were things happening like this? Why were Francis and Tonio acting like this? The old Tonio would never say something like that. Never say anything to hurt Lovi.

She  _hated_  this.

She could feel one of the cans slipping from her grip and she let it fall, turning and running toward the road that she knew would lead her back to Big Mike's house—where she'd gotten the paint earlier. Big Mike would let her stay at her house for the night. She'd make her hot chocolate and listen as she told her all about her  _former_  best friends.

Big Mike would help her figure out what to do. Because she was  _sick_ of this. A whole year of them ignoring her... Almost a full two years since they'd started to grow distant, stopped coming over to her house and hanging out and instead decided to hang out with sluts like those girls.

She ran along the sidewalk, completely ignoring her surroundings as she instead just ran. She just needed to get away. Get away from  _them_...

And suddenly she was startled by a sudden cacophony of sound. Sudden honking, a screeching sound... And two bright lights, growing brighter and closer and...

She was suddenly yanked backwards. Falling back onto something solid and the lights—the  _car_ —passed, honking furiously. But she was okay. She hadn't gotten hit.

"Ow~"

And that was why. Somebody had grabbed her and pulled her out of the way. Someone who she was currently half-laying on and who was making groaning noises. And now suddenly pushed at her, attempting to move her away.

Gill slowly lifted her head, panting, her heart beating probably a million times faster than was healthy. And she was now staring down into a pair of rather wide blue eyes. Blue eyes, light brown or maybe dirty blond hair, male, probably in his early-twenties...

And she was suddenly shoved away and those eyes turned toward her, now narrowed with a mixture of irritation and worry as he sat up and glared at her. "What was  _that_? You don't just run out into the middle of a street like that! You're lucky that I happened to be walking by!"

She could barely hear him over the sound of her own heart. Thumping in her chest like it was attempting to escape and run away.

"I—" And she couldn't even get her mouth to work, like it was connected to her messed up heart.

Which the guy seemed to notice, since his voice lowered to a calmer pitch as he moved closer to get a look at her. "Are you okay? You want me to call someone or—"

To which she hurriedly shook her head, now rising to her feet. "No, Awesome is fine. I can get back. I—" She shook her head once. Stupid unawesome heart was being distracting...

He blinked once. "...Awesome?"

She had already turned, though, quickly flashing him a grin to assure him that Awesome was completely fine. And she only stumbled a teeny-tiny bit as she did, though. "Thanks. I won't do it again. Awesome should really be going now, though!" And, before he could say anything else, she hurriedly took off. Hoping against hope that no one  _else_ had seen her because she didn't even want to  _imagine_ the lecture that she'd get from Luddy if he found out that she ran out in front of a car.

No, there was no way she was ever letting Ludwig find out about this. Because it wouldn't be awesome at all for awesomeness to be lectured at by her little brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told from the POV of a major OC/kind-of-expy...

He was never  _ever_ going to accept directions from his grandmother again.

He was actually starting to wonder if she'd done this on purpose. He wouldn't put it past her. At all. He really wouldn't be surprised if he found out that she was currently sitting in her favourite armchair at home right now, smoking one of her cigars while laughing at the mental image of him staring down at a torn scrap of paper in complete confusion.

"Turn onto Chestnut Street." Okay, he'd done that. He was currently standing on Chestnut Street. "Walk forward"—no problem—"Until you come to the...aqua-coloured house..."

Aqua-coloured house.

What the hell colour was 'aqua'?

He knew it was some sort of blue colour. Or green. Blue-green? No, that was turquoise. Or teal. Maybe it was a sort of combination of blue and green...? Like, sort of blue-ish with a little bit of green. Or the opposite...

Anyway, he shook his head, glancing up and looking over his surroundings. It didn't really matter what colour it was, because right now he wouldn't have been able to tell the colour aqua from maroon. Since it happened to be—he glanced down at his watch—eleven thirty-three at night. Meaning that he was currently standing in the middle of a street barely lit by street lamps, looking over a row of houses all in various shades of grey.

He was wondering if it might be better to just count his losses. He could park his rental car—he'd left it at the end of the street, hoping that he'd be better able to differentiate the house colours on foot—in some empty lot and spend the night there. He'd slept in worse places than that, before. Much worse. Then he could just restart his search for his elusive apartment in the morning.

But...after spending six and a half hours on a flight—two of which had been spent on the tarmac due to some sort of mechanical problems—he really just wanted to curl up on a nice soft mattress and pass out for the next twelve hours. Not spend the night lying in the backseat of a rental car, especially when he had no idea what had gone on in that backseat.

Great. Now he was going to be thinking about that for the rest of the time he was driving that thing.

Anyway, he really just wanted to fall asleep on a bed. The bed in his new apartment preferably. And he would probably currently be lying in that bed, fast asleep, if it weren't for his grandmother's insanely confusing directions.

He was pretty sure that this was all the evidence he'd ever need to prove that his grandmother was a sadist.

And then that train of thought was completely derailed, as he felt a sudden buzzing against his leg.

...He had a cell phone.

How in the world had he managed to forget that he had a cell phone? He could have called his grandmother back, or better yet, he could have figured out how to contact his landlord (or landlady; he hadn't actually talked to whoever it was yet) and could have asked  _them_ for directions.

He groaned and reached into his pocket, mentally kicking himself as he flipped it open and then pressed it against his ear, glaring back toward where his car was parked. "Hey?"

"Leon." And he was greeted by a very familiar woman's voice, a little deeper than most women, but otherwise normal and innocent-sounding. "I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up from the airport. Did you get in okay?"

Leon frowned as he slipped the scrap of paper into his pocket and began walking back to the car. He definitely didn't trust the 'innocent' tone of voice. "So your directions..."

There was a sudden coughing at the other end of the line, swiftly accompanied by a completely non-subtle topic-change. "I wish I could have picked you up, Leon, but I had my book club coming over tonight and then one of the girls came over to borrow some paint. Did you get into town all right?"

Yes, that topic-change definitely gave away that the bad directions had definitely been on purpose. He sighed as he continued walking toward the car, only halfway paying attention to his surroundings as he focused on the conversation. "Yes, I got in fine. I saw the station and everything... It looks like a nice enough town. Although, I noticed some graffiti that looked like a bird—"

"Chick."

And now he froze in place, removing the cell phone from his ear for a second in shock and then replacing it quickly as he reached into his jacket pocket with the other hand in order to pull out his car keys. "A chick?"

"Isn't it obvious that it's a chick? I think it's pretty good. Quite cute. Really brightens up the place..."

...Well, that wasn't at all suspicious. But, at the moment he really didn't care. He just wanted to collapse into his bed. He wasn't even to bother changing; he was just going to walk into his bedroom and drop right onto the bed. Then, tomorrow, he could start dealing with the boxes that he'd need to unpack, when he woke up at five in the afternoon. "I'm on Chestnut Street now. How do I get to the building from here?"

"Oh, it's easy." She laughed slightly and he sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the car. Maybe he'd just take a nap here. "Just—" And then her next words were drowned out. As the air was suddenly filled by the sudden sound of very very loud screeching tires. And then the roaring of a car's motor and a beep like someone was lying against the horn.

He jerked to complete consciousness at that. Just as a sports car barrelled down the road at a speed that was at least fifty over the limit.

"Hey!" And he dropped the cell phone to his side, darting toward the road just in time to get a quick glimpse of the license plate.

"Leon!" And he'd almost forgotten that he was on the phone, which he hurriedly brought back to his ear in time to hear "you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Some...maniac...was driving at least eighty." In a very nice car. He hadn't been able to see much of it, but what he had seen had definitely been impressive.

Particularly when you compared it to the probably disease-ridden wreck-in-progress that he was currently driving.

"Ah, yes, be careful." She warned, suddenly sounding rather distracted. "You're near the school right now... They're having their Homecoming dance, so you might run into some kids who may have been drinking a little bit.

Kids drinking. Just what he needed. He sighed, leaning back against the car as he glanced in the direction that the car had come from. "So is my apartment far from here?"

"No, not real—"

And he missed her words again, as his attention was suddenly drawn straight to a figure running down the street toward him. A figure dressed in dark clothing, but with long hair that looked...white? And very pale skin. He could tell that even from his distance. Pale arms wrapped around something that was being clenched against the person's chest.

A girl, he could tell, as she drew closer. A girl who didn't seem to be paying any attention to where she was going. She was just running, staring at the ground. Something fell out of her arms and she didn't even notice. She just kept running. Running straight toward the road, where she'd need to cross.

Did she not realize that? He glanced down the street, just in time to see a car swing onto the road and pick up speed almost immediately. And it was heading straight toward where she'd soon be crossing if she didn't stop, which it didn't look like she was about to do.

...And he immediately felt his stomach drop in horror as he glanced between the girl and the car.

Shit.

Shit!

He was going to hit her. There was no way that she'd make it across. She'd end up stepping right in front of him.

And that was all he thought, before he suddenly was sprinting toward her, his cell phone falling from his hand and cracking against the sidewalk.

Damn it. He'd only been in this town for a couple hours. Why in the world was he  _already_ attempting to save some girl's life. And damn it. If he didn't reach her in time. He had to. Only a few more feet.

And then she reached the road, just a second before him, taking a step out. And then the squeal of the tires and the sudden honk and he pushed every single bit of energy into that last moment.

And reached out to grab her arm, fingers tightening around her, yanking back, ignoring the smashing sound of cans as they fell into the road.

And he was suddenly on the ground. Hard surface beneath smacking up against his head as something warm and thank-God  _alive_  fell against his chest.

"Ow~" Both of which hurt. A lot. And he opened his eyes now, not even sure when he'd closed them...

And a pair of wide, terrified eyes were staring at him.

Terrified  _red_ eyes.

Yes, red.

He blinked in confusion for a moment just at that. Completely distracted from whatever had just happened. And she did have white hair. It was tickling against his throat. And her very pale hands were clenching at his chest, nails digging through his shirt into his skin.

...She was pretty.

And that was when he woke from his daze, hurriedly jerking up and pushing her away.

What the hell was with people in this town? First he sees that maniac driver and now this girl almost gets killed right in front of him. He flashed her a glare, taking a deep breath and willing his heart to slow to its normal pace. "What was  _that_? You don't just run out into the middle of a street like that! You're lucky that I happened to be walking by!"

His heart was starting to slow at least. Giving him an opportunity to calm. And look her over, making sure that she didn't look like she'd actually gotten injured. He didn't see anything thankfully. Probably since she'd used  _him_ as her cushion. He'd have at least a few bruises showing up tomorrow.

She, on the other hand, still seemed to be in shock. All she managed to stutter out was an "I—" and then she bit her lip and shook her head.

"Are you okay?" He leaned closer, staring at her. She was shivering slightly... Poor girl. "You want me to call someone or—?"

But she didn't let him finish the sentence, as she instead jumped up, as if those had been the magic words to snap her out of her shock. "No, Awesome is fine. I can get back. I—" She paused again, shaking her head as if attempting to straighten her thoughts, which just made him wonder...

...Wait. Had she just referred to herself as 'Awesome'?

"...Awesome?"

She had already turned, though, only pausing long enough to flash him a grin that seemed to be trying to reassure him that she was perfectly all right. Which would have worked better if she didn't stumble as she attempted to move so she was facing forward again. "Thanks. I won't do it again. Awesome should really be going now, though!"

And, before he could move to stop her, she ran off. At least this time she stopped long enough to glance both ways before crossing the road. Leaving Leon standing there, staring after her...

"...Awesome?"


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes it irritated him. How they'd giggle and giggle and giggle like deranged hyenas. 'Oh, Francis, you're so funny' and then giggle  _again_  while they flicked their heads so their hair would toss over their shoulders like a horse's mane.

Not that he ever voiced these thoughts, because there was one thing that these girls were quite good at... And he'd be willing to put up with a few hours of their giggling for it.

Besides, there was always at least one person that he could always count on to provide a respite from the obnoxious giggles.

"There you are, bloody git. I was about to leave you to walk... You're lucky I'm in a good mood."

Said person happened to be currently leaning against the side of a rather lovely white stretch limo—Francis heard one of the girls give an excited gasp at the sight and he smirked in amusement—a half-empty beer bottle dangling carelessly from one hand.

"But, mon cher," he called, chuckling in amusement as Arthur's scowl only deepened, "This limousine is  _mine_. I doubt that Renard would agree to leave his  _boss_ to walk the dark streets all by himself."

"Fuck off."

Ah, Arthur. Always so elegant and refined.

As shown when Arthur proceeded to dip his head back and drain the rest of the beer, licking at his lips afterwards—quite deliciously, Francis thought—before tossing the bottle unceremoniously toward Francis's feet.

It was a good thing that he was good at dodging the random objects that Arthur liked to throw at him. Otherwise, he probably would have gotten some rather nasty cuts on his legs from that.

As it was, he had to hurriedly shift to the side to keep away from the flying shards of glass. The girls all shrieked and jumped back, obviously not expecting Arthur's random attack. The girl that had been clinging to Francis's arm—Ashley? Courtney? Ah well, it didn't matter—flashed Arthur a dirty look in retaliation. Which he ignored, of course. Instead, he chose to slide into the limousine, slamming the door shut behind him, hard enough to make the vehicle tremble.

Francis smirked slightly and then glanced back to where Antonio was standing with his girl. A brunette with long wavy hair who seemed completely oblivious of the fact that he wasn't paying her any attention. As he was staring back toward the school building with a morose expression.

And Francis's own smile fell.

He knew exactly what Antonio was thinking... Or, to be more accurate, who Antonio was thinking about.

...But things were better this way. No matter how sick it made him feel when he saw how hurt Gillian and Lovina had looked.

"Antoine!" He hurriedly moved back to his friend, throwing his arm around his shoulders and tugging him close. "You look so glum, mon ami! Don't worry. I'm sure that Arthur hasn't completely drained us! And even if he has, there's plenty more alcohol at home, oui?"

It was a pathetic attempt at humour, but at least it managed to distract him. Not that it really took much, since Antonio had already consumed quite an impressive amount of alcohol and was therefore even slower on the uptake than usual. Not that Francis really minded, since it just gave him the opportunity to slide the arm formerly set around his friend's shoulders toward that lovely ass of his...

"Qué?"

"Don't worry about it." He forced a chuckle and gave him a playful shove toward the limousine. "Let's just go."

~.~.~

Francis had always hated his home when he was a child. It was so big. So empty. There had always been servants, but most of them had tried to keep their interaction with him at a minimum. And the servants who  _didn't_  completely ignore him always seemed too busy to play with their little master. And the one who had actually paid him attention...

Francis didn't like to think about him.

His parents had never been home. They were always off travelling the world, sending him expensive presents from foreign lands in an attempt to apologize for missing his entire childhood.

He'd always hated it. He'd always hated those presents. He'd always hated this house. But—as he'd grown older, he'd at least learned how to make the best of it. How to make the best of being alone in a mansion, almost completely separated from the outside world.

It always amused him to watch the faces of his companions—the many girls and boys that he'd brought here at various times—when they first laid eyes on his 'home, sweet home'. The look of sheer amazement that passed over their faces. As if they couldn't believe their eyes.

It was the first step in his plan. They'd make their way along the long, winding driveway, eventually stopping in front of the house. Renard would come and open the door with the proper blank expression. His companion for the night would climb out and gaze around in awe. He'd invite her or him inside; they'd proceed to the parlour for drinks. Lots of drinks.

And then after the proper amount of alcohol had been consumed, he'd lead them up to one of his guest rooms for a night that they'd never forget.

He hadn't decided yet if that would be the schedule for tonight, though. He'd never been with these girls, but at the same time... The pair of green eyes currently glaring at him from across the dimly lit limousine were definitely much more enticing than the giggles and hair twirling and whatever else they were doing in an attempt to gain his interest.

"Do you have something you want to say to me, mon cher?" he teased, leaning forward and setting his hand on the other boy's thigh as the vehicle rolled to a stop. "You know that I am always ready to listen... and do  _whatever else_  I can for you."

Arthur snorted in response, now slamming the door open and jumping outside as soon as the vehicle came to a halt. Not even giving poor Renard the chance to come over and open the door for him.

And he turned and glared back at Francis, as if having expected him to immediately follow. "We're talking."

Really, would it kill Arthur to say 'please' at some point? Francis oftentimes wondered why he put up with him...

Actually, that wasn't a hard question. He had yet to meet anyone else, after all, who was even half as skilful with their mouth as Arthur was... You just couldn't let talent like that go to waste, now could you?

Which meant he should probably follow. He turned and flashed a flirting smile at the rather disappointed young ladies that climbed out of the limousine. Antonio followed, almost falling right over as he used a hand to steady himself against the door. "I will join you all inside later, mes amis! Antoine, you will show the lovely ladies to the parlour, oui?" Not that he really expected Antonio to remain standing long enough to make it to the parlour. He was really wondering who in the world had gotten Antonio this drunk anyway. He usually tried not to drink at dances and things like that...

...He pushed that thought away. It didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that Arthur was currently scowling at him, obviously impatient, looking as if he wouldn't think twice about murder if Francis didn't get over there right this minute. Francis smirked back in response, enjoying the look that plainly read 'if I could murder you by force of my scowl alone, you would be dead six times over'.

And then Arthur turned and stomped away, not even watching to see if Francis followed him. Which he did, more out of curiousity of what Arthur wanted to talk about than anything else. Hopefully the others would be able to find their way to the parlour; if not, one of the servants could direct them.

He had to admit that he was a little surprised when Arthur led him out toward the gardens... Arthur had always loved spending time out here when they were kids, but...

Things had changed in the past few years. And now both he and Arthur tended to avoid the places where they'd spent the happy days of their childhood.

He followed silently, watching as Arthur walked between the neatly trimmed, now empty rosebushes without seeming to pay them any thought...

It was too quiet. Francis had never been one for awkward silences. So he took a few quick steps until he was walking alongside the other boy. "We're actually  _talking_ then, cher? I thought that was just a cute little euphemism that you'd come up with."

Arthur didn't rise to the bait. He didn't even act like he'd heard him, which was a little surprising. Since this was  _Arthur_ that he was talking about. It was making him incredibly curious about what in the world Arthur wanted to discuss...

And suddenly Arthur halted, almost causing Francis to run straight into him.

"Arthur?"

"Shut up." He turned, flashing Francis an irritated glare that slowly fell away to reveal an expression of deep thought. The French boy frowned in confusion, definitely not used to Arthur acting like that. Insults were normal with Arthur. Threats. Demands, yes. It wasn't normal for Arthur to be so quiet and thoughtful.

"How much money do you have saved up?"

And now Francis just stared at his—friend? If you could call their relationship friendship—in complete bewilderment. "What?"

Arthur was staring toward the mansion now, green eyes narrowing as he bit down on his bottom lip in a mixture of thoughtfulness and irritation. "How much money do you have available to you right now?"

...What the hell? "Ah, maybe a few hundred dollars?"

"Do you know how much your parents keep in the safe?"

"Why do you want to know?" Francis's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he glared down at the smaller male. "What are you planning?"

" _I'm_  planning?" And now Arthur laughed, a fake innocence passing over his expression as he looked up at the other boy. " _We're_ planning, because you're going to help me."

"Quoi?"

"I'm leaving." The words were sudden. And harsh. "I'm sick of this place. I'm leaving. But I need money."

Francis continued to just stare at him in shock. "Mon—wait, what are you talking about? Where are you going?"

"Away... It doesn't matter where. Maybe to London." He shrugged and then remarked calmly, as if he hadn't just dropped such a massive bombshell. "I need money, though."

"And what makes you think that I'll give you money?" Francis didn't know why he even bothered asking. He was already trying to think of the best way to get into that safe. How much would be in there? At least ten thousand, he'd guess... And if he made it look like a burglary...

A large portion of his mind was screaming at him right now. 'What are you  _thinking_? Robbing from your own parents?' Even if they'd never actually been anything like real parents to him... It wasn't much different than robbing from strangers, which he'd done on multiple occasions.

And the other part of his mind...

 _Leaving_. He knew Arthur very well by this point. Knew why he'd be so desperate that he'd be willing to run away. And he knew why Arthur had come to him—not just for the money. Travelling alone would be dangerous.

And it wasn't like there was really anything holding him here. Nothing besides Antonio... and Gillian...

Arthur snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised a massive eyebrow. "I know you."

_And I know you._

"And when are you leaving?"

"Three weeks." Arthur reached into his back pocket and pulled out two plastic cards. Two plastic cards which he swung back and forth in front of Francis's eyes like a hypnotist's watch. "It'll be easy." A hint of hesitation, but then it was gone just as quickly. "Once we have the money at least... You can even come with me, since I know that you're not going to hand it over. And I know how sick you are of this hellhole too."

Just Antonio and Gillian.

They'd be better off without him. Without him and Arthur. He'd always thought that. It was why he'd refused to let Gillian be brought down with them. And why he tried to keep Antonio as far out of everything as he could.

...And he wasn't going to think about them anymore. No more. Instead, he'd force a smile over his lips and lean forward, sliding an arm around Arthur's waist before he could respond. "You want me to come with you, mon ami? How surprising, since you always say that you hate me."

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes in irritation, back to his normal self. "Fuck off, frog" And now he pulled away. "You'd better have some decent beer in that damn palace."

Back to normal.

But now... Three weeks. He knew Arthur had been serious, even as he stomped away toward the house, muttering under his breath about beer and the girls—Francis seriously doubted that he'd be able to land any of them if he kept up with that attitude.

Three weeks...


	4. Chapter 4

Leon was one hundred percent convinced that his grandmother was going to live to be at least two hundred years old—just because the devil would be too terrified of her staging a coup and stealing his job to take her anytime before then.

Because only someone who was evil incarnate would do this sort of thing to their only grandchild. Although, he supposed that this mess wasn't entirely her fault... It was mostly her fault, but not entirely.

After all, she probably would have given him the directions to his apartment last night. If he hadn't managed to smash his cell phone into tiny bits when he dropped it on the pavement before running after that very odd girl.

That had been a pretty stupid decision. As he'd then been left in a neighbourhood that he didn't know, in a town he didn't know, in the middle of the night.

And it wasn't her fault that nobody answered at any of the doors that he'd knocked on. Or that he'd then had to drive around the town with the hope that he'd be able to find someplace that was still open. Which he had...almost an hour later.

Honestly, Leon couldn't remember any other time in his life when he'd actually thanked God for McDonald's.

The cashier inside had actually been rather helpful—although she seemed to be more amused than she should be by his predicament. At least she'd known where his apartment was and he'd managed to somehow make his way inside before collapsing right onto his bed, without even glancing over his new home sweet home.

None of that had been his grandmother's fault. However, that didn't mean that she was off the hook. As she had shown her cruelty in a different way. By calling him at six-thirty that morning...

The phone call had managed to almost give him a heart attack; he was just as sure that he wasn't going to make is to thirty as he was that his grandmother would live to be two hundred. As the phone's ring managed to wake him right out of a sound sleep, which really should have lasted for at least ten more hours.

And she'd sounded oh so happy, like she was completely unaware of the fact that not only had he gotten very little sleep last night because of her, but he was also suffering from severe jet lag. "Morning, sweetie. I'm so glad that you made it to your apartment! Isn't it nice? Probably the best one I could find in your price range." She didn't seem to mind that he hadn't responded yet, which was good, since he really didn't want to... "Well, I just wanted to wish you a good first day at work."

What?

" _What!"_ He'd jerked up at the statement, all sleepiness immediately banished from his mind.

"I didn't tell you?" And she almost sounded innocent. Almost being the key word. "The chief wanted you to start today. I figured that it wouldn't be a problem..."

Leon could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mouth dry as he prayed that she wasn't about to say what he thought she was about to say. "What time?"  _Please don't say before eight. Please don't say before eight._

"Six forty-five."

And the universe hated him. Or his grandmother hated him. Or both. " _What!_ "

He jumped off of the bed. Or attempted to jump off the bed; he'd almost fallen flat on his face when his legs somehow managed to tangle in the blankets. "Why didn't you tell me this last night!"

"Because you hung up on me before I could tell you anything, sweetie. Besides, I thought you already knew."

Of course he didn't know. He'd been planning on heading down to the station once he'd had a day or so to get settled. He could talk to his new boss, start to get a feel for how the place worked. Then he could start in a week or so.

Not the  _morning_  after he'd arrived in the town.

What kind of place  _was_ this?

He had just hung up on her after that, not even bothering to say goodbye. Definitely not, after springing something like that on him. Instead, he had raced across the apartment, running into various articles of furniture as he did so. Thank God he'd thought to pack his uniform on top of everything else in his carry-on. He quickly changed into it while attempting to simultaneously comb his hair and brush his teeth, with the expected results.

And then he'd jumped into the probably-dangerous rental car. And was now semi-speeding toward work, cursing his grandmother out every few seconds.

It was already six forty-three; there was no way he'd get there on time. He could just imagine the sort of impression that would make. The rookie can't even get to work on time on his first day.

At least the station wasn't too far from his apartment—only about ten minutes. He'd still get there late, but hopefully not late enough for the chief to start reconsidering giving him this job.

Really, this was cruel even by his grandmother's standards...

~.~.~

Leon managed to make it to the police station in eight minutes and sixteen seconds, then took fourteen seconds to park—there were only two other cars in the entire parking lot, which he took as a good sign; at least that meant that only a couple people would be witness to his late entrance—and then took seven seconds to race into the building, apology already prepared. "I'm sorry I'm la—"

Only to be greeted by an entirely empty room.

At least, entirely empty of people. There was a desk for a secretary, a few doors leading off to other areas of the building, some waiting chairs... But absolutely no people.

Nobody waiting impatiently for him to arrive... Ready to scold him for being late on his first day of work...

For a few moments, Leon just stood in the doorway, chest heaving as he glanced around in confusion. He wasn't  _that_ late... Although, maybe they hadn't noticed that he was late? That would be incredible if it were true. He could just make sure that he was better on every other day to make up for it...

"Hello?"

And he'd started zoning while thinking this, and therefore almost jumped right out of his skin when a questioning voice suddenly spoke up from right behind him.

Leon immediately spun around, immediately meeting the eyes of an older man with salt and pepper hair—probably in his mid-forties—who was holding a cardboard box of files and eyeing him with a rather confused expression.

...The chief. He remembered his grandmother sending him a picture from the station's Christmas party last year—he had no idea why she had been there; he'd just decided that it'd be better to not question it—with the chief's face circled with hot pink marker.

Meaning that this was his new boss.

"Chief!" He hurriedly straightened. "I'm so sorry that I'm late! My flight was delayed and then I couldn't find my apartment and she didn't tell me that I had to be here this morning  _until_  this morning and I tried to get here as fast as I could and..." And he suddenly realized just how fast he'd been talking and how idiotic that had all sounded. And he was supposed to be attempting to make a great impression on this man. "I mean...I'm sorry, sir. I should have been here earlier."

The chief just continued to stare at him, expression perplexed. And then his eyes suddenly widened in comprehension and he nodded quickly. "Ah, you must be Kennedy. I thought Mike said that you weren't coming until tomorrow morning."

...

Sometimes he really really disliked his grandmother.

"She...did...?"

"Yes." He shrugged slightly, shifting the box to his other arm and offering his other hand for Leon to shake. "Must have just gotten her dates wrong or something."

Or she'd done it on purpose just because she enjoyed messing with his head.

And was evil. Pure evil.

"It's fine that you're here today, though," he continued. "Most of the other officers don't come in until later, so Johnson and I are the only ones here right now. Which works, since I was planning on assigning Johnson to be your partner anyway."

Leon nodded immediately, feeling slightly more relaxed by the statement. Having only two people around meant that there only two people that may possibly see him make a complete fool of himself. And having a partner would be incredibly helpful...

And suddenly he noticed that the chief was heading across the room, toward a little hallway leading deeper into the building. Without him.

He hurriedly ran to catch up, remaining silent as the man hummed something that vaguely sounded like a popular country song under his breath, and then remarked, "I have to say that you're not what I was expecting. Knowing your grandmother."

Leon winced slightly at the statement. Knowing his grandmother. This was the main reason that he hadn't been especially excited about the idea of moving to the same town where his grandmother had been living for the past thirty-plus years. People  _knew_ her. And people were going to automatically make the assumption that he was just as mentally unsound as she was... Which was about as far from the truth as you could possibly get.

Since he had absolutely  _nothing_ in common with her.

At all.

And anyone who said otherwise was lying through their teeth.

And he was suddenly almost greeted by a face-full of police chief's uniform when said chief stopped in his tracks without any sort of warning, besides the sudden exclamation of, "Morning, Johnson. The rookie's here a day early. ...And you're not supposed to be smoking in here."

A statement that was answered with complete silence. Except for the slight sound of a chair squeaking... And now Leon realized that he could smell cigarette smoke. Very strongly actually, like the room that they were now standing in front of was literally full of the stuff. It was making it rather hard not to cough. He'd always hated the smell of cigarette smoke.

And for a moment, Leon hesitated, not entirely sure if he actually wanted to see the man who was going to be his new partner. He was starting to feel that little nudge in the back of his mind; the nudge that warned that things were going to go rather badly for him... It was a nudge that he completely blamed on his grandmother's existence.

But...curiousity won out. So he took a slight step to the side in order to stare inside the rather hazy office.

To see a tanned, incredibly brawny man—probably at least ninety percent muscles—sitting with his feet settled on a stack of papers that was dangerously leaning to one side. He was holding a lit cigarette in one hand—dark, cold, emotionless eyes staring at the lit end as if he hadn't even heard the chief's words. His hair was dark, short, and unkempt... his chin covered in what looked like five o'clock stubble... Not that it was even close to five o'clock.

And Leon immediately had the mental image of a bear.

A very large, muscular, terrifying bear that would probably tear his head off just as soon as look at him.

An impression that was only strengthened when those eyes turned toward him, just  _staring_  at him... Creepily. Very creepily.

And he suddenly felt a hand pat him firmly on the back, pushing him forward very much against his will. "This is Leon, Johnson. He's going to be your new partner; just arrived in town last night, so he doesn't know his way around." He didn't bother waiting for an answer, besides a slight nod from the other man. "I actually got a call just a little bit ago that you can check on. Apparently there's some of the usual going on at the Bonnefoy mansion again."

Johnson just took a drag of his cigarette in response. And then nodded once, slowly allowing his feet to fall from the desk with a loud thump. And then he unfurled himself from the chair and walked past him, toward the front door.

And then he received another push from behind.

"Well, go on. And don't worry, I'm sure that you and Johnson will make a great team."

...Apparently his grandmother wasn't the only sadist in this town.


	5. Chapter 5

Leon had always hated awkward silences. He felt like he needed to say  _something_ ; after all, this was the guy that he was going to be working with from now on. They should learn stuff about each other, right?

It would really help, though, if the guy weren't so intimidating. How were you supposed to ask your new partner about himself when he looked as if he'd tear your head off if you said one thing wrong?

"So you've lived here for a while, then?"

Didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

Leon was starting to come to the realization that Johnson was a chain smoker. As, not only had he not set his cigarette down since they had met, but his squad car positively reeked of smoke. He also didn't seem to enjoy talking much. As he didn't react to Leon's question, outside of taking another drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash out of the window... Leon was starting to fear for his lungs.

"Mhm."

And the deep grunt effectively startled Leon enough to make him jump a few inches in his seat, almost strangled himself with his seat belt too. He hurriedly attempted to cover the nervous movement by coughing into his fist. "Ah... You like it here?"

"Mhm." And he just grunted again, attention completely on the road as he drove along the relatively quiet streets... There were a few people walking or jogging on the sidewalks, headphones blocking them from the rest of the world and they passed a couple other cars, but other than that, most people seemed happy to stay inside this early in the morning. Where he would have been if it weren't for his evil grandmother.

"Everything's pleasant in Pleasantville, eh?"

And now he caught a tiny flicker of movement cross Johnson's lips. Too fast for him to identify what emotion it had been attempting to convey. Probably disgust at such a lame attempt at a joke.

"I mean, I thought it was kind of a funny name. Calling a town 'Pleasantville'... Seems like a lot to live up to and...everything..."

...He was going to shut up now.

And they spent the next ten minutes or so in silence. Johnson just continued to smoke as he stared straight out of the windshield, while Leon attempted desperately to keep himself awake through force of thought alone. As soon as they got back from wherever they were going, he was going to go through an entire five pots of coffee all by himself.

And then he suddenly jerked upwards, all sleepiness disappearing as they suddenly drove into sight of the largest house that he'd ever seen—at least in real life.

"Whoa...who lives there?" And he mentally smacked himself at the exclamation. Great, he sounded like a five-year-old kid...

And it was only made worse when Johnson immediately pointed toward the iron-gate that blocked their way to the grounds... And the plaque placed right beside said gate, which read—in complex, swirled letters—' _Bonnefoy Residence_ '.

It's what the chief had said too, he remembered. Something about Bonnefoy... and 'the usual'. Which hadn't told him anything. The usual could be anything. Disturbing the peace, domestic abuse, shooting fireworks from the water tower...

...There were many reasons why his grandmother hadn't been invited to any of his birthday parties after age five.

Anyway, so it could be anything. He felt like he was just being dragged along right now, completely clueless about where he was being taken. "So, how do we get inside?"

And this feeling was only exacerbated when he turned toward where his partner had been seated. To find that he had disappeared.

And was currently standing outside—right beside the gate—pressing the button of an intercom that Leon had managed to completely overlook. Damn it. He must be making the worst first impression ever. How in the world had he not noticed him opening the door? And was he supposed to follow him?

He assumed not when Johnson turned and walked back to the car, expression just as unreadable as ever. Was he bored with all this or was that just his default expression?

And the gates creaked open as Johnson slid inside, dropping his still-smouldering cigarette onto the blacktop before reaching into his pocket, pulling another one into sight, and lighting it in a practically professional manner.

Definitely chain smoker.

And now they were driving through the gates. And along a driveway lined with trees, bushes, and plants that he was almost positive didn't normally grow anywhere near here, the branches overhanging the road so the light filtered through in a way that was almost ethereal.

It was really beautiful. And with the house rising from behind the trees... He would have snapped a picture of it... If he had a camera and was some obnoxious tourist. And not, you know, a  _police officer_  who was coming here to possibly arrest someone living in that house...

Which they had almost reached now. They were driving up now and—there was a limousine...

There was a limousine just sitting in front of the house, currently being hand-washed by a guy in overalls, who now looked up, wiping his hands on his pants as he did so...

Johnson just proceeded to park right beside the limousine before opening the door and stepping outside, Leon hurriedly following...

"Morning, officers." Leon was a little surprised that the man didn't look at all surprised to see them. He was probably in his fifties or sixties with grey hair and sharp, intelligent grey eyes. "I assume that Mary Anne called you in? Honestly, I've told that woman to just let them alone. They're teenagers; calling in the cops isn't going to help anything."

So whatever the 'usual' was, it involved teenagers. And some woman was—worried about them, it sounded. So teenagers doing something stupid.

Yeah, sounded pretty usual.

"I'll take you inside, I guess. Since you already drove all the way up here." He sighed, shaking his head in what seemed like exasperation at this 'Mary Anne' person. And then motioned toward the stairs leading up to a huge, cherry red door carved with ornate little symbols.

Johnson led the way, opening the door and pausing just long enough to hold it open for Leon. Who hurried up, took a step inside, and then stopped dead in his tracks...

Holy shit.

Okay, he'd thought the house looked nice from the outside. But that was nothing compared to the interior. He was currently standing in an entrance hall thatwas bigger than his entire apartment. And there was a chandelier hanging over his head that was probably just as big as him if not bigger. And the walls were covered in tapestries and paintings that were probably worth more than he'd make in his entire life.

...And  _teenagers_  lived here?

"Antonio and the girls are sleeping in the parlour... The young master and his...friend...are upstairs." He sounded rather put-upon. "You know where his bedroom is, right?"

Johnson nodded and immediately started heading out of the room, Leon hurrying to catch up. And was taken off-guard again when they stepped into a room dominated by a grand staircase, leading presumably to the next floor. A grand staircase which was littered with beer bottles. And, near the top, a suit jacket...

Ahh, he was starting to get the idea. "Underage drinking? Grandmother mentioned something about a homecoming dance at the school and that some of the kids might be drunk..." He headed toward the stairs, now moving in front of Johnson. Okay, so now that he knew what he was expecting. Some drunk or hung-over teenager... He could deal with that.

Although he did have to look around once he reached the top of the stairs, not sure which of the dozens of rooms he'd gone into. Until he noticed a tie thrown over a possibly-expensive vase sitting on a table a few feet away. And a dress shirt was stuck half in-half out of a door halfway down the hall.

So he'd stumbled up here, probably completely drunk—those other people that the servant had mentioned must have been friends. They'd probably had a party after their dance, apparently with plenty of alcohol.

He stumbles up here, removing his formal clothes. Probably dropping straight into bed. And was most likely still lying there, dead to the world. Preparing to wake up with a terrible hangover. Leon had to admit that he almost felt bad for the kid, but if his...parent or guardian, he assumed...thought that the only thing that would make a difference was calling the police on him, then... Hopefully she was right.

And with that thought, he walked over to the door, glancing over his shoulder to where Johnson was standing a few feet away, not making any motion to stop him. Which he assumed meant that he was supposed to lead this one.

So he took a step forward and knocked firmly. "Hello? Mr. Bonnefoy?" He'd assume that the kid was one of the Bonnefoy's. "Mr. Bonnefoy? I'm a member of the police force. We were called here to deal with an..." He hesitated for a moment "incident..." That hadn't sounded as authoritative as he'd wanted, but he still wasn't sure why they were here exactly...

And he was a little surprised to hear noise from inside. Apparently the boy was already awake. And...he was speaking in some foreign language.

"Oui. Oui…Touche moi lá..."

French? Not that he knew any French besides 'oui', 'Monsieur', 'Mademoiselle' and 'bonjour'... But it definitely sounded French.

He knocked again. "Mr. Bonnefoy?"

And almost jumped right out of his skin when Johnson's hand suddenly moved past him to rest on the doorknob. And then the door swung right inside with more force than was probably necessary.

...And he immediately laid eyes upon a scene that was going to haunt him for the rest of his mortal life. And would probably follow him down to hell as well, just because the universe loved to screw him over like that.

He  _never_  should have taken this job.


	6. Chapter 6

Part of Francis's mind was vaguely aware of a voice calling from outside his bedroom door. Male voice; he didn't recognize it, though, and didn't particularly care to find out who it belonged to. Not when Arthur was doing such  _absolutely delicious_ things with that filthy mouth of his.

"Oui. Oui…" His fingers were digging harshly into the other male's scalp, earning him a rather hard nip in retribution. Not that it was all that effective as a punishment. Instead, it sent a shiver of pure lust up his body. And he closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure. "Touche moi lá..."

There were very few times when Arthur actually obeyed Francis when he told him to do something...  _This_  was one of those rare occasions.

Which was why Francis was rather put out when the door of his room suddenly slammed open, effectively scaring both of them into jerking away from each other.

He immediately spun around, more than prepared to yell at whoever had dared to interrupt them.

Until he identified the figure standing in his doorway and immediately relaxed. Even allowing a smirk to cross over his lips as he settled back in his seat. "Ah, Johnson. Bonjour. I wasn't expecting your visit." He moved his hand back down to rest against Arthur's scalp, pushing him forwards slightly. "Continue, mon cher. It's just our dear friend, Officer Johnson."

He heard Arthur give a snort of irritation at the order, but he obeyed... Ah, this was one of the many reasons that he preferred his irritable British friend/enemy to those giggly whores that were probably currently passed out under his kitchen table downstairs.

One of those girls would probably squeal in embarrassment if she were caught in this position; particularly if she were caught by a massive, scowling police officer like Johnson. She'd squeal, try to cover herself, expect Francis to apologize for her...

Arthur just went straight back to what he'd been doing. Even more exuberantly than before. Apparently enjoying their audience... So he was an exhibitionist, eh? That was a good thing to know.

Johnson just remained standing in the doorway, disinterested expression on his face as the smoke that constantly surrounded him curled up toward the ceiling. Francis found his gaze fixated on the tendrils, even as his fingers fisted around the strands twisted in his grip...

And then he removed the cigarette from his lips, blowing out another stream before he turned his head slightly to the side...

And Francis suddenly noticed the other figure. Standing beside Johnson, dressed in a matching police uniform. And staring at them with a horrified expression.

"Ah, cher..." He had to pause for a moment to catch his breath as Arthur re-angled his head so he could throat him deeper and— _God_ , Arthur was _incredible..._  It was amazing to think that his partner-in-crime had been a virgin up until six months ago. He was such a fast learner... "Ah...who is your ami?"

Johnson's reaction was typical; he didn't visibly respond. Although Francis thought that he caught a tiny glimmer of emotion pass through his eyes for a split second. Maybe. It could have just been a trick of the light, though.

He'd assume that the other officer must be a new partner or something. He was definitely new to the town, since Francis had never seen him before... And this was the sort of town where everyone knew everyone else...and everyone else's business. He hadn't even  _heard_ that anyone new was moving here. Which was strange in and of itself.

He looked a lot younger than Francis would have expected for a police officer, he would probably guess around twenty... And he was attractive. Quite attractive. Especially in that uniform... Apparently there really  _were_  attractive men in the force...

"So the chief finally gave you a partner, oui?" Francis smirked as said partner finally seemed to jerk out of his horrified daze, taking a hurried step backwards in an obvious attempt to put more space between them. "Il est mimi."

And his smirk only widened at the confused—and suspicious—look that crossed across the younger cop's expression. Obviously not understanding what he'd just said. "You're cute. Why don't you come and join us? I'm sure that Arthur won't mind at all."

...And he was pretty sure that he had never seen someone turn that white in such a short amount of time. It was incredibly amusing.

Although he got over it disappointingly quickly, as he shook his head and then hurriedly stepped forward, flashing a quick glance toward his partner before seeming to decide to just continue on his own. "Mr. Bonnefoy?"

"Francis. No need to be formal with  _moi_ , mon cher." He sent him a flirting wink before he leaned forward, grabbing Arthur's chin in and forcing his head up so he could kiss him—making sure to make the most lewd possible noises as he did so.

"Mr. Bonnefoy!" And he was trying to sound authoritative. It would probably work better if his voice wasn't shaking slightly. "I'm sure you're aware of why my partner and I are here..."

And Francis would have responded, if it weren't for the sudden sharp pain and metallic taste that suddenly filled his mouth. He jerked back, hurriedly wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. "Merde! Arthur!"

And Arthur just glared at him, completely unrepentantly.

Completely unrepentant after biting his tongue hard enough to actually make it  _bleed_. "Fuck off." And after they'd gone through enough of Francis's booze last night to kill a sailor.

Francis frowned slightly, making a mental note to talk to Arthur later about this. The whole 'blowjob for booze' payment only really worked if it didn't end with him  _fucking biting his tongue_... He wasn't going to be able to taste anything properly for a week...

And Arthur was standing there, eyeing the officers with an irritated expression. And then he spat on the floor in front of them—actually  _spat_ on the floor; now Francis was going to have to get a servant in here to clean that up.

"Fucking pigs." And then he spun around and stomped over to the door leading to the washroom, throwing it open so it slammed against the wall and then slammed it shut once he'd stepped through.

...Yes, they'd definitely have to talk later. Francis sighed and leaned back in his seat, flashing the wet spot on his carpet a harsh glare. Arthur could be so  _uncouth_ sometimes. "You really need to work on your timing, mes amis. Now he's going to be difficult again..."

"Mr. Bonnefoy..."

"Francis." He now stood. Since Arthur was gone, he might as well amuse himself with the rather attractive cop... Who immediately turned his gaze toward the ceiling when he stood, staring very intently at the chandelier hanging over them. Francis grinned in amusement, kicking his discarded jeans and boxers under his chair. "And your name is...?"

"Ah..." For a moment, his eyes flickered downwards before he remembered why he'd been staring at the ceiling in the first place and they jerked back upwards. "Leon...Leon Kenn— _Officer_ Kennedy... Now, Mr. Bonnefoy..."

" _Francis_."

"Fine, Francis." Francis smirked at the exasperation that had managed to break through his attempt at a professional-tone. "I'm sure that you're well-aware of why my partner and I are here..."

"Non, not really."

And now Leon's gaze dropped again, this time so their eyes met. He had very blue eyes, Francis noted. Entertainingly expressive blue eyes, which were now revealing very clearly that he hadn't expected that answer and wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. Francis was starting to get the idea that  _he_ didn't know why he was here either.

Which was perfect...

"Are you planning on  _arresting_ me, Monsieur Leon?" His voice slipped down to its most seductive tone as he crept closer, again amused by the obvious confusion that passed across his face. He spared a moment to glance toward Johnson, who was watching them both with a rather intense—unemotional, but still intense and probably-warning—gaze.

"I—"

"Because I'm quite sure that I wouldn't mind  _at all_  if you were the one to arrest me." He was almost close enough now to—

"That's enough, Francis..."

And that sudden, incredibly deep, Southern-accented voice was enough to stop Francis in his tracks.  _And_  make Leon jump almost a foot in surprise before turning toward his partner with a shocked expression. "Johnson?"

Johnson was still standing there, same emotionless expression... He breathed out a cloud of smoke, which rose to join its brethren in the air. Although now he chose to glance down toward his rather shocked partner, looked him over for a moment, and then turned toward Francis. "You know what the chief said..."

And Francis immediately frowned in response, glancing back towards the door that Arthur had disappeared through... Of course he'd leave him to deal with this... "I don't care what the chief said."

...He just shrugged in response, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"It's none of your business what we do anyway."

And suddenly Johnson turned back toward Leon—who automatically flinched slightly at his attention, before seeming to notice his reaction and hurrying to act like he wasn't at all nervous. He seemed rather skittish...like a cat or one of the rabbits that Arthur's family used to raise.

And Johnson blew out another stream of smoke before continuing. "Wait in the car. I've gotta talk to him..." He used his shoulder to motion toward Francis, not even bothering to look at him.

"You're sure?"

And Leon was now watching Johnson, completely ignoring Francis...

...Well, nobody could ever say that Francis didn't know how to take advantage of opportunities when they were offered...

Especially when said opportunities were presented in a pair of very nice-fitting black pants. And all he had to do to  _seize_  said opportunity was to take the cute cop completely off-guard by settling one hand on his  _very nice_ ass—not as nice as Antoine's, but you couldn't really compare anyone's ass to Antoine's... And then use the unoccupied hand to grab his tie, force his head down... And then immediately press their lips together.

Not that he got much of a chance to savour said opportunity—he was pretty sure that the other man had just stopped breathing, though—as he was suddenly slammed against the wall at a very  _very_  high speed.

And his entire body was going to be bruised tomorrow from that one... The cheek where he'd been punched was already going numb. And he could even hear the chandelier's crystals clink against each other, shaken by the force of his body slamming against the wall...

And he looked up to see Johnson, still standing there with a completely deadpan expression. Although, now he was rubbing at one of his fists with the opposite hand... Before he nodded once, removed the cigarette that he'd been holding between his lips, and blew out another cloud of smoke.

"Assaultin' a police officer..." And he glanced back toward the door, where Leon was standing, looking completely shocked... "Wait in the car."

And now he immediately nodded, turning around and hurrying toward the staircase.

...Worth it. Definitely.

And then he was distracted by the sound of the bathroom door creaked opened. And he turned to see Arthur standing in the doorway, rubbing at his hair with a towel with another towel wrapped around his waist. Apparently calmer than earlier, as he just looked at them for a moment with a bored expression before walking across the room and settling on the bed.

And then he waved his arm dismissively. "Carry on. If you want to kill the bleeding tosser, I'm not going to stop you."


	7. Chapter 7

"Lovi? Lovi? Ve~ I made pasta for you. The sauce even has lots and lots of tomatoes in it…"

Lovina winced internally at the sound of her sister's voice coming from right outside her bedroom door. Feliciana sounded so sad and desperate. Although she supposed that it was only to be expected, since she had been attempting—unsuccessfully—to coax her out of her room for almost an hour now. She'd come up and asked what was wrong, she'd attempted to comfort her; she'd brought up enough food to feed an entire army…

"Ve~ you didn't eat dinner last night, Lovi. And you didn't eat breakfast or lunch… What happened? Did something happen at the dance?"

Damn it.

Why the fuck couldn't she stop herself from crying every time she thought about last night? She didn't care what those sluts thought about her. She didn't care if Antonio refused to talk to her outside of telling her that she had a spot on her dress. It hadn't hurt at all when he'd walked away with his arm around that other girl.

It hadn't hurt at all. So why wouldn't these damn tears leave her alone?

"Lovi?"

"Stop calling me that!" Her reaction actually startled  _her_. The way her voice cracked on the last word… Lovi was what Antonio had always called her, ever since she was a little girl.

She was holding a pen… A pen that had been scribbling on a piece of paper for—how long? An hour, a day? She had no idea how much time had passed since she'd locked herself in here… The page was absolutely full. No white space. Most of it was illegible…

But she could pick out some words. The same word actually. Over and over and over and over.  _Antonio. Antonio. Antonio…_

And she suddenly grabbed it, crumpling the sheet violently before throwing it against the wall. It hit and then bounced back, silently falling onto the carpet. Sitting there. Innocently.

Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? Why couldn't she stop thinking about that asshole? She didn't care. She didn't care about him.

"Sorella?" And now Feliciana's voice came again. Sounding small and pitiful and close to tears… "Please come out. Please? Grandpa and I are worried about you, sorella."

Damn Antonio. She hated him. She hated him. She hated him and those girls and everyone.

"Please, sorella?"

She couldn't understand why this had happened. She and Antonio had been friends since they were little kids; they spent pretty much their entire childhood together. She had very few memories from those years that didn't involve Antonio, actually.

Stupid, clueless Antonio. Who would always make sure that she was included when he was playing with his other friends, even if his friends got annoyed at him because of it. Who would snuggle with her when she was cold or tired or frightened. Even if she struggled and attempted to escape.

He'd always been there.

Until last year, when things had suddenly changed. When he'd started spending less and less time with her. At first, he had at least acted like he felt bad about it. He'd placate her with gifts and smiles and promises that they'd spend time together when he wasn't so busy. And then he'd started coming up with stupid, see-through excuses about why he couldn't keep those promises.

It hadn't been long before he'd started ignoring her, not even saying 'hi' when they passed in the halls. Suddenly, he'd started spending more and more time with Francis and Arthur… Even ignoring Gill, who started to spend more and more time with her brother and his friends… Laughing just a little too loudly and talking a little too quickly to sound natural.

"Sorella?"

And then he'd started dating. Girl after girl after girl… Rumours had begun floating around the school. About the wild parties at Francis's mansion, filled with alcohol and sex… Whispers about Antonio. Antonio with girl after girl after girl…

Lovina squeezed her eyes shut at the thought, trying to force the tears down. Damn it. She didn't care! No matter what people said. She didn't care about the looks and the whispers. The rumours about her and Antonio... That he didn't care. He'd gotten tired of her…

She didn't care about the girls who would catch her in the hallways after school and call her a slut and a whore. The girls who would brag about how Francis had invited them to his house and how they had had sex with them. With Francis and Arthur and… Antonio.

"Lovina!"

Sudden pounding against the door brought her back to the present. Her grandfather's voice was coming from the other side… Sounding worried as well.

"I'm not hungry!" She wasn't. Her stomach flipped just at the thought of food—although how long had it been? She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually eaten a full meal. She would usually just grab a lunch at school, eat a few bites when the others were watching her, and then throw ninety percent of it away when they weren't… And she did the same at home, claiming that she was still full from lunch. Eating just enough to keep Feliciana and her grandfather from worrying.

"Lovina, come out!"

She kicked her feet angrily against the desk in response, slightly satisfied by the loud slam that they made. "I said I'm not hungry!"

And she was suddenly startled by an unexpected voice, sounding much calmer than either of her family members. "Lovina, please come out of there."

Ludwig? Why was the potato bastard here?

She frowned, glancing toward the door. She didn't want to talk to the potato bastard. Out of all of the people that she least wanted to see right now, he was up near the top of the list. Right under Antonio and Francis and Arthur and those bitches that had decided to try to pick a fight with her last night and spilled punch all over her dress when she told them to go fuck themselves.

"Lovina?"

Yet, she found herself standing up and walking toward the door. Fingers reaching out hesitantly. And then turning the lock, slowly pulling the door open bit by bit.

To see her sister, grandfather, and Ludwig standing out in the hallway. Feliciana's eyes filled with unshed tears and her grandfather looking worried and panicked. Like he had no idea what to do.

Within a few seconds, Feliciana had thrown herself at her, arms wrapping tightly around her sister as she blubbered into her shirt. Dampening it within seconds.

"Lovi! Please don't be sad. Please, please?" She nuzzled her face against Lovina's chest as she cried, a move that would usually have earned her a rather violent scolding. Lovina was pretty sure that she didn't have the energy for anything like that right now, though.

"Stupid… I'm fine. I'm not sad."

Feliciana ignored her words, clutching at her even more tightly as she sniffled. And basically used her shirt as a handkerchief. "But, sorella~"

"I said that I'm fine." She slipped her own arms around her sister as she spoke the words, drawing her a little closer… She could feel Feliciana relax just the slightest bit at the increase in physical contact. Feli had always been like that. She craved hugs and kisses and this sort of attention…

"You need to eat, Lovina." And now her grandfather spoke again, attempting to use his most serious voice. She could see a flicker of nervousness pass through his eyes as he spoke, though. "You're losing weight… You're going to get sick if you keep skipping meals like this."

"I told you that I'm not hungry." She hugged Feliciana even tighter, hands automatically sliding down her sister's back, where they began to rub circles into her spine. Feli immediately relaxed a little bit at this.

And now she looked over her sister's head to where Ludwig was still standing in the hallway, staring off into the distance in what was probably an attempt to give them a little bit of privacy.

She frowned. "Oi, what are you doing here, potato bastard?"

Ludwig started slightly at her words…or probably her tone, which was definitely harsher than necessary, but quickly regained his composure. "Gillian spent the night at Ms. Kennedy's house last night, so Mutti and I were picking her up… And then… I heard about what happened, so I wondered if…" He hesitated, looking a little unsure of himself now. "I—I wondered if you were okay."

Lovina blinked in surprise. He wondered if she was okay?

The potato bastard cared about her?

"I—" Now she felt unsure of herself. Which was a really shitty feeling, by the way. "I—yeah, I'm fine. Completely fine. Stupid potato…"

And now, Feliciana's grip on her loosened as she turned to face Ludwig. A slight smile crossing over her lips as she stared at him. "Ve~ Ludwig was worried about sorella?"

"Um…" His face was flushing a tomato-red colour as he turned his gaze to the ground. As if hoping that it would open up and swallow him whole. "I just—I heard about what happened and... Antonio…"

And Lovina's entire body jerked at the name. Voice immediately moving to cut him off before he continued. She didn't want to think about last night. Last night or Antonio. "It doesn't matter. I'm fine, potato bastard. You said that you made pasta, Feli?"

That was the right thing to say, as both Feliciana and her grandfather's faces brightened at the mention of pasta. Or maybe at the hope that she would finally eat something after skipping however many meals. Which she supposed she'd have to do. Even if she already felt incredibly queasy…

"Ve~ sí. I made lots of pasta, sorella!" And Lovina's hand was suddenly captured in her sister's surprisingly strong grip. "Come eat it with us. You two, Ludwig!"

"Mutti and Gill are waiting in the car…" Ludwig started. Probably hoping to escape.

Grandfather immediately walked over to him, though, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. "Invite them in, too. The more, the merrier, after all."

And Lovina didn't even get to hear his answer, as Feliciana was suddenly dragging her toward the dining room, already rambling on about the pasta that she had made.

She let her drag her, though. Because she could do this little thing for her sister… Since it was pretty much the only thing she really could do…


	8. Chapter 8

"Grandmother!"

Even as he shouted the name and pounded his fist against the dark green front door of his grandmother's house, Leon wondered why in the world he'd even bothered coming here. His grandmother was the last person that he wanted to see after everything that had happened today. All he wanted to do right now was go back to his apartment and sleep for the rest of his life.

Damn it. His first day of work—his first day in the town—and he was already second-guessing himself. Why in the world had he thought that it was a good idea to move here? His grandmother lived here. That should have been warning enough.

"Grandmother! I know you're in there!"

At least she had given him legible directions to  _her_  house, unlike the ones that were supposed to lead him to his apartment last night. These directions had actually been incredibly easy to follow.

Hard to believe  _that_ wasn't on purpose.

Leon sighed as he leaned against the doorbell—using his body weight to hold it down. Listening to the obnoxious buzzing noise coming from inside.

His first day of work. Although it  _shouldn't_ have been his first day of work. If his grandmother hadn't called him this morning, then he wouldn't have gone to the Bonnefoy mansion with Johnson. He wouldn't have been forced to witness that...scene... And he wouldn't have been—

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps moving toward the door. And then it swung open, revealing a completely innocent-looking little old lady in a print dress with a flour-streaked apron tied over-top...

Who stared at him for a moment before her lips twisted upwards into a wide grin. "Leon! You came to visit me! Give grandmamma a hug!"

And he was suddenly engulfed in the arms of the person who had been incessantly torturing him for the past few days.

Most people immediately pegged his grandmother as a harmless old woman when they met her for the first time. A sweet, grandmotherly figure even. The type of woman who would bake cookies for the neighbourhood children, knit scarves for babies, and play bridge with other little old ladies... They saw her as someone who was completely harmless and sweet...

After all, a little old woman who only stood about five foot four couldn't possibly be a menace to society, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Leon immediately tensed at the hug. "Hello, Grandmother..."

"Oh... You and your 'grandmother'. You've always been so formal. What about Grandmamma? Or Nana?" She now took a step back, looking him over for a moment. "Don't you look handsome in your uniform? Come in! The girls can't wait to meet you!"

Leon hesitated. "Girls?"

He didn't have much of a choice in the matter, as he was suddenly being dragged inside the house. By a little old lady who had a lot more upper body strength than he'd expected...

"Lookie what we've got here, girls!" And suddenly Leon was pushed forward, hurriedly grabbing at the doorframe in front of him in order to keep from falling flat on his face. In front of the dozen or so older women who were now staring at him in interest.

Great. His grandmother had guests. And he'd apparently interrupted some sort of game, as most of the women were holding cards while seated around a circular table, tea cups of amber liquid set in front of them.

He had such lousy timing.

"This is my grandson, Leon!" She patted him on the back as she walked past him, over to the sole empty seat at the head of the table. "Doesn't he look so handsome in his uniform? Just like his daddy."

Leon froze for a moment, slightly unnerved by the looks that he was receiving. He felt like people had been sizing him up a lot today. The police chief and Johnson and that kid...

"He does look like Scotty," one of them suddenly remarked, jerking him out of his thoughts. "Must have got his mama's eyes, though. Scotty's were greyer, weren't they?" She set a card down on the table, grinning at another woman, who immediately frowned in response while glaring at her own cards.

His grandmother ignored the question; instead, she reached down and picked up her pile of cards, fanning them out in a too-professional manner. "So, how was your first day of work, honey?"

The question might have sounded entirely innocent. But the smirk that he saw flicker over her lips as she gazed at him over her cards most definitely wasn't... Leon frowned slightly as he leaned against the doorframe, noting that while most of the women had shifted their attention back to the card game, there were still quite a few that were watching him—checking him out, actually.

Ugh. He did  _not_ want to deal with this right now. Or ever.

"Well, they didn't expect me to come in today..." He flashed her a warning glare, which was answered with a perfectly-innocent widening of the eyes.

"Really? Oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie. I thought for sure that they wanted you to come in this morning." She immediately smiled; simultaneously setting a card down on the table, which triggered an instant chorus of groans and sighs.

"Yeah. Well, the Chief definitely didn't expect me." He took a step closer to the table, vaguely wondering what game they were playing. Something unrecognizable to him. "He introduced me to my new partner, though."

"Really? And what's your new partner's name?" She smiled up at him again. And then suddenly smacked her entire hand on the table. "Haha! Read 'em and weep, girls! Pay up!"

This was greeted by an even louder chorus of groans and moans—and then the movement of a dozen old ladies' hands to purses that had been hanging on their chairs or resting in their laps. Hands which returned in a few seconds, holding a variety of bills that were counted out and then thrown toward his very triumphant-looking grandmother.

For a moment, Leon didn't react. Outside of gaping at the scene. Then...

"You're gambling?"

All she did at first was grin, flipping through the bills as she cackled in amusement. "Just a friendly wager, sweetheart. Hey, Tess! You still owe ten smackeroos!"

Tess, who happened to be one of the ladies that had been watching him throughout this whole fiasco, flashed her an irritated glare, but flipped through her purse again and counted out the necessary bills. Tossing them across the table with a little more force than probably necessary.

This entire town was insane. That was the only explanation that made any sense at all.

"You—" No. He wasn't going to question it. He was still retaining his sanity, thank you very much. "Never mind. His name's Johnson... He never told me his full name." Or anything else about himself for that matter. At all.

"Johnson! He's a nice guy. Isn't he, Annie?"

Annie looked to be one of the younger members of his grandmother's little gambling posse, probably in her mid-forties to early-fifties. One of the ones who hadn't been checking him out, thankfully.

She smiled slightly at the statement and then chuckled. "I guess you could say that. He's really quiet. I don't think I've ever heard him say more than five words at any one time. He's a good guy, though. Excellent cop."

"I heard that he once got shot," another suddenly interjected, "right in the leg. There was blood pouring absolutely everywhere. And he didn't even flinch. Just went right after the guy who did it... Broke the bastard's jaw and three of his ribs. Then they had to practically  _drag_ him to the hospital to get the bullet out."

His grandmother grinned, reaching out to her tea cup and taking a delicate sip while staring at him over the rim. "Sounds like the perfect partner for my little grandbaby, then."

...Sometimes Leon got the semi-eerie feeling that his grandmother knew a lot more about what was going on than she really should. And sometimes he even wondered if it may be possible that she was secretly pulling the strings in the background...

After all, he knew that she had been the one who helped him get this job. 'I've got friends in high places.' That was the only answer she gave when he asked how she'd managed it...

He usually figured that it was better that he didn't know.

"Anything else exciting happen?" she questioned. Her smile much too knowing...

And Leon sighed, knowing that he wasn't getting out of this. She probably knew already. Somehow.

He stalled, though, crossing the room to where a small tea cart was resting against the wall. A kettle sitting on top, alongside a variety of empty tea cups. One of which he took and filled with the dark-coloured liquid. "We were called to the Bonnefoy mansion."

And he immediately  _felt_ every single eye turn toward him. Gazes that were coupled with a few sudden muffled giggles.

"You met Francis, then?" And he could  _hear_ the smirk in her voice.

He flinched, almost managing to drop the kettle in the process. Yes, he'd definitely met Francis.

The whole incident was forever burned into his mind; he had never hated his photographic memory more than he did right now.

The image that he'd initially walked in on. Those two boys... And they hadn't even bothered to  _stop_. No, apparently they didn't care that two cops were watching them. And Francis...

Leon hadn't known how to react to the smirking blond. He wasn't intimidated by them at all, which Leon could have understood if it had just been him there. He wasn't the type to really inspire terror in people. Especially when he had no idea what was going on. But the fact that he hadn't even been intimidated by  _Johnson_...

 _Leon_ was intimidated by Johnson. And they were  _partners_. The guy looked as if he could tear a wolf apart with his bare hands, after all.

And then that  _kid_  had sauntered right over while he was distracted. And, in that split second, pulled his head down to his level... Eyes flashing with what Leon had immediately recognized as a challenge. An intense, angry, almost desperate challenge. And then their lips had been forced together...

"Yes, I met him."

"He's a nice-looking kid," one of the ladies, who had remained silent up until this point, shook her head as she took a sip from her own tea. "He's one messed up piece of work, though. Not that you can blame it  _entirely_  on him, I think. Parents practically abandoned him after all. Never around—never really  _have_ been around. He's just servants raising him in that mansion... That sort of thing will mess with a kid, you know. I'm surprised that it took him this long, actually..."

And Leon watched, a little surprised, as his grandmother set her tea cup down, an uncharacteristic frown crossing over her lips. "Well, it doesn't help that nobody's bothering to do anything about it." And she actually sounded angry. "All three of those boys are just going to end up falling straight to the gutters if someone doesn't help. Right now, they're hurting themselves along with everyone else." And her eyes suddenly snapped straight to him.

Leon felt his heart stop for a split second at that. Why—why in the world was she looking at  _him_? He wasn't involved. He wasn't involved in this insane town... Definitely not. He'd just arrived here  _yesterday_ forGod's sake. He wasn't going to get himself mixed up with some juvenile delinquents.

He cleared his throat, knowing that he was flushing now. "Well, there was definitely underage drinking going on in that house, so... We'll most definitely end up getting involved. We can't just allow something like that to happen..."

And his grandmother was staring at him with an almost-accusing expression.

Which he responded to by reaching down and grabbing his tea cup, carefully bringing the hot, relaxing liquid to his lips. Taking a large sip.

And he immediately spat it out.

"What the—!"

"You don't like the tea?" And her tone was definitely harder than usual, although it was beginning to slip into its usual  _much-too-innocent-to-actually-be-innocent_ tone again. "I thought that you liked tea."

Shit. He set the cup down, staring at it with a mixture of amazement and horror. "Why the hell is there  _vodka_ in this?"

And now he glanced over to see her rather evil grin, which matched the smirks of most of her friends as well. "Ah, sweetie. Why else? To give it that extra little kick, of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vodka in tea is disgusting. Don't try this at home. xP


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur was really beginning to lose his faith in humankind. Honestly... If random men were going to attempt to pick him up off the streets, the least they could do was take a bath beforehand. Really, even a common prostitute wouldn't have agreed to go with anyone that smelled that disgusting.

He'd definitely made his feelings incredibly clear, however. The uglier one would probably be picking glass shards out of his face for the next few months.

"Hey!"

And he sighed, turning toward the unfortunately overly-familiar voice. But apparently he'd missed the other one. Pity. And that had been his last bottle too.

The man was standing at the end of the street, right under a flickering streetlamp. Arthur had to snort at that; it was like some scene in a homemade horror film. A horror film where the supposedly-scary guy attempted to terrify you by glaring and cracking his knuckles in what he probably expected was an intimidating gesture.

"What d'ya think ya doin', faggot?" And he even had the horrible grammar that seemed to be a prerequisite for those sorts of villains.

Really? Did he honestly expect that Arthur was going to be intimidated by a few petty insults and some atrocious grammar?

The man took a few steps forward, raising his fists into the air as he growled like some sort of animal. A bear, maybe. Or a wolverine.

"Ya hurt my buddy. I'm gonna make ya pay."

"Your 'buddy' made a few insinuations that were rather insulting." Arthur sighed as he slid a hand into his pocket, fingers clasping around the pocketknife that he'd gotten into the habit of carrying around at all times. Now, where to strike first? He could go for the face, he supposed. Leave a nice scar that would serve as a reminder to be kinder to strangers.

And the man growled again. "I'm gonna kill ya for talkin' to me like that."

Would it be too much to go for the eyes?

Arthur considered this as the man stalked forward, eyes flashing homicidally. And then he darted forward, probably hoping that it would take the much-smaller teenager off-guard.

It was pathetically easy to sidestep the attack. Even as he slid his pocketknife open and sliced upwards in the same motion. He smirked at the yelp that he earned in response. That would leave a nice scar.

The man jerked backwards, eyes widening comically as he pressed his fingers against his now-bleeding cheek. Looking as if he couldn't  _believe_ that he'd just been cut by someone that he'd initially mistaken as a male prostitute.

Really. It was a rather insulting assumption to make. Just because he was walking the streets at four in the morning while wearing black leather pants, black high-heeled boots, a tight red and black tank-top, and a black leather jacket didn't mean that he was some streetwalker.

"Fuck!" And Mr. 'I-haven't-taken-a-bath-in-three-years' ran toward him again, throwing a wide punch that missed him by a mile. Arthur almost laughed at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. "Ya're gonna pay for that, punk!"

And now Arthur did laugh. Almost forgetting to dodge the next attack. "Really now?" And now he slid closer, throwing the man off-balance as he grabbed at the collar of his filthy T-shirt. He'd have to wash his hands after this... "And here I thought that you were trying to seduce me. My mistake."

He reminded Arthur of a bull. Violent, stupid, unreasonable, just charging blindly... How fun.

However, irritatingly, their game was suddenly interrupted by a presence that soundlessly emerged from one of the nearby alleys. An annoying presence who appeared with one hand settled casually into the pocket of a pair of Gucci jeans that Arthur knew had cost more money than this entire section of the city was worth... The other hand was occupied by a revolver that was now pointing toward the now-frozen man.

"There you are, mon cher." Francis was smiling, although Arthur knew him well enough to recognize the irritation barely hidden behind his eyes. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to..."

And the man suddenly turned and ran. Just like that. Although he did pause long enough to send Arthur a glare that plainly read that they weren't finished.

Good, it gave him something to look forward to, although the guy would have to hurry if he wanted to get to him before they left for London. Maybe he'd even bring a weapon next time and they could have a fight that was at least a little more challenging.

Anyway, that was a thought for later. For now, he settled his attention on Francis. Expression plainly revealing his displeasure in the interruption. "What are you doing here, frog? And where the fuck did you get a gun?"

"My father has a gun collection in his study," The French boy responding, resting his occupied hand on his hip, gun resting carelessly against his leg. "I figured—knowing you—that I might need it. And as for why I'm here..." He smirked, glancing in the direction that the man had run. "I was merely wondering where you had disappeared to. It's rather worrying when I wake up at three in the morning to find that you've suddenly disappeared. I thought that you may have decided to go after Johnson and that adorable little rookie. You seemed rather irritated with them earlier."

Arthur rolled his eyes at the remark, ignoring the fact that Francis was slowly inching closer. "I couldn't care less what those fucking pigs try. In three weeks, we'll be gone anyway."

Francis smirked at the response, now moving so they were standing face-to-face. Arthur stared up at him with a disinterested expression. Not like that deterred the other. Instead, he slid an arm around his waist and pulled him so they were pressed against each other. "He seemed rather serious, however. You don't think that you should be even a  _little_ worried?"

"Of course not. I can take them on if they try anything." One of Francis's hands had slid under his shirt while the other moved down his back.

"I like this outfit. Where'd you find it?"

"In one of your closets, idiot."

And, of course, Francis just laughed, hand dipping down into his pants. "Really? I don't remember owning something like this. One of my 'friends' must have forgotten it."

That wasn't surprising at all. Francis's closets were filled with clothing that Arthur assumed had been left by his many fucks: bras, panties, boxers, even some pants, shirts, dresses, and skirts. Which immediately led to the interesting question of what exactly some of his 'friends' had been wearing when they left his home.

Which, thinking of past fucks. "You just left those sluts in your house?" he questioned, ignoring the hand that was now groping his ass.

To which Francis responded with laughter, shaking his head slightly. "Of course not. I took them home earlier. They were rather disappointed about last night, so I made sure that they were  _satisfied_  before they left."

And he was unfastening Arthur's pants now; not that Arthur was going to bother stopping him. They'd fucked each other in more public places than this before—honestly, screwing each other in the middle of the sidewalk at four in the morning was tame compared to some of the places they'd done it.

Then again, they'd never actually had sex in the middle of a  _road_ before. That could be interesting. Particularly since there were no street lights around here...and the few people that were out in this neighbourhood at this time of night—mostly of the same sort as those men that had attempted to pick him up earlier—weren't the type who paid much attention to their surroundings. And they often drove much too fast.

It could prove  _very_  interesting.

"Ah, I almost forgot." Except that Francis was now suddenly taking a step backwards, constant smirk still stretched across his lips. "I left Antoine asleep in the car. I wouldn't want to leave him there for long in this sort of neighbourhood. Some shady hommes may consider taking advantage of our dear ami."

And he just walked away, heading back into the alley. And, after a moment, Arthur chose to follow. There wasn't anything better to do now, after all.

"So, three weeks, cher?" Francis turned his head slightly, smiling at the other teenager. "What are you planning to do for these three weeks?"

"Getting everything prepared. What else?" He snorted, sliding his hands in his pockets as they crossed onto another street. Where a fancy, obviously expensive sports car was parked. Honestly... Could the frog do  _anything_ that wasn't incredibly ostentatious? "What the fuck are you planning on doing?"

"Why, charity work, of course!" He beamed as he skipped to the driver's side of the car and threw the door open. "I'll do my good deeds for the town as a fond farewell. Then we can continue on to adventure!" And he slid inside, slamming the door closed.

Idiot. Arthur opened his own door with much less flourish, glancing into the backseat quickly to see Antonio stretched out across the seats, fast asleep. "Why did you even bother bringing him?"

"He wanted to come. It isn't his fault that he's rather tired, since you didn't give anyone much chance to sleep this afternoon." He grinned as Arthur slid into his seat and slammed the door shut much more angrily. "With your temper tantrum after Johnson and that cute little cop with the nice ass left. You should apologize to the girls for that, by the way. You scared them."

Bloody idiot. Arthur turned and stared out of the window as Francis laughed obnoxiously and then pulled out into the street, careful to keep his speed under the limit. Since the last thing they needed was another run in with the police... Particularly since he wasn't technically able to drive legally yet...

Arthur glared out at the houses lined up against the sidewalks. Fucking pigs. He hated all of them. Sticking their noses where they didn't belong.

Arthur hadn't bothered looking at them when they walked in on him and Francis; their sudden entrance had startled him a bit, but he'd then just continued with what he was doing. He couldn't care less who watched them, after all. Francis had started talking to them, flirting with the one who responded—apparently he was Johnson's new partner. Then the French idiot had decided to make out with him in order to irritate them.

Which of course Arthur wasn't going to make any easier for him. So he'd bitten his tongue until he tasted blood. And then stomped off after cussing the pigs out. Which was an entirely reasonable response. And then he'd taken a shower, since there was nothing better to do... He'd actually planned on staying in there until the pigs left, but then he'd heard something slam into something else, so he'd come out to investigate. And had found Johnson standing in the doorway, completely calm. While Francis lay against the wall, smirking while rubbing at his cheek. The other cop gone.

Didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.

Unfortunately, Johnson hadn't actually killed the frog and had instead waited until Arthur was settled on the bed before stating, completely emotionlessly, that he'd used up his last warning and that the Chief was now prepared to take 'preventative measures'.

And then hadn't even bothered to explain what he meant by that; then again, this was Johnson. Johnson never explained anything. He'd just finished with that warning and then told him that the Chief would expect to see him at the station right after school on Monday.

Fat chance. There was no way that he was going to make things easier for the fucking pigs. It wasn't like they could really  _prove_ that he'd done anything illegal. All they were doing now was attempting to find anything that they could use against him...

Fucking bastards.

"You're being quiet, mon cher."

"Fuck off."

And Francis just laughed at that, taking his eyes off the road just long enough to flash Arthur a cocky smirk and then glance back toward Antonio. His expression visibly softening as he looked at him. "Three weeks isn't a very long time."

Arthur scowled. "Then stay if you want to stay." Although, that would mean that he wouldn't get the money. The more than ten thousand dollars that could at least set him up initially... You could buy a lot with ten thousand dollars. And people wouldn't ask as many questions when you had ten thousand dollars.

"I wouldn't do that." Francis immediately cut that train of thought off, almost sounding irritated by the remark. "I was just thinking about Antoine. And what he'll do once we're gone. This could actually be good for him..."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he leaned his chin against the cool glass, staring out at a shop covered in foul graffiti—some of which actually looked familiar. Maybe he'd painted it when he was drunk or something like that.

Francis's response just figured. For whatever reason, the French idiot was always worried about Antonio. He refused to let him know about their less-legal ventures—even when his assistance could have made things go much more smoothly. And Antonio was one of the few people that they knew that Francis  _hadn't_  slept with, even though it would probably be incredibly easy to get him into bed. Arthur had considered it once or twice, but then thought better of it. Since Francis  _did_ seem rather protective of the other boy...

"Good for him?"

"Oui. Antoine misses Lovi and Gilly. You saw him last night; he usually doesn't drink like that."

Arthur nodded. Yeah, he'd definitely noticed. He'd never actually seen Antonio that sloshed before...

"If we're gone, then he can go back to them. He won't have us being 'bad influences'." His grin now was definitely forced as his eyes flickered back toward the backseat. "He won't have us being selfish and keeping him for ourselves... It'll be the best thing for him."

And now Arthur knew that he was talking to himself. Since he didn't even seem aware anymore of the other passenger in the car.

"But three weeks. I don't know what we can do in three weeks..."

Good, then at least both of them were aware of that... Since Arthur had no idea what he was doing either. All he knew was that he needed to get out of this hellhole. Get away from everyone and everything. Start over.

Leave. And never return.


	10. Chapter 10

"Morning, Gillian. You're earlier than usual."

Gillian had been expecting the remark and now turned toward the door with a rather excited expression, waving as the school's principal walked into his office with a cup of what was most likely coffee. "Hey, Mr. K!"

Mr. K—or Mr. Klarkson, as he was known to everyone who wasn't Gill—didn't really seem all that surprised by the presence seated in front of his desk. As evidenced when he didn't react outside of walking around the desk and then settling into his seat, taking a sip of coffee before setting it down on top of the cluttered workspace.

It would be weird if he  _were_ all that surprised. Since Gill spent quite a lot of time in this room. It was a rare week where she wasn't dragged in here at least once by an enraged teacher after all...

"Mrs. Peterson told me to come here. She didn't even let me in my locker, which is totally unawesome, since I had to carry my bag all the way down here and it's seriously heavy." She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest as she pouted. "She said something about having 'blatant disrespect for school property'... I don't know what she was talking about, though. I have lots of awesome respect for school property!"

The principal nodded once, scratching at his balding head as he looked over one of the sheets that had been left in the 'Important: Look at this immediately' pile. "I think that she was talking about the graffiti that you left outside the gymnasium."

Gillian tilted her head, looking rather confused by the statement. "But that's silly...I wasn't disrespecting the school; I was making it more awesome!"

He didn't respond for a moment, outside of lifting the cup of coffee long enough to take a sip before setting it back down. Then he leaned back and stared at her over the top of the desk. Which she responded to by grinning widely and then leaning forward so she could stare right back.

And now he smiled. "Ah, Gillian. What are we going to do with you?"

"You could build a time machine and send me back to the time of the awesome Prussian Empire!" She beamed, clapping her hands once in excitement. "That would be totally awesome! Although we'd have to make sure that Uncle Fritz could come too, since he knows  _everything_ about the awesome Prussian Empire."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Something a little less time-consuming."

"Hmm..." Now she leaned back in her seat, throwing her legs up so her combat-boot clad feet were resting on the desk. "What about world domination? That could be fun. We could split up all of the countries and we could  _rebuild_ the Prussian Empire."

"I would fear for the world if you ever got a hold of it," he replied with a slight grin. Before his smile slowly disappeared and he glanced back toward his paperwork. "Antonio and Francis are still ignoring you, then?"

And her usual cocky smile  _immediately_  disappeared at that remark. Her lips twisting downwards into a very uncharacteristic scowl. "Who cares about those unawesome jerks? If anything,  _I'm_  ignoring  _them_. And I'm totally getting  _better,_ more  _awesome_ friends who aren't complete jerks!"

And she'd begun shouting those last few words, feet falling to the ground with a loud smack. He looked up at the sound, one eyebrow rising in a silent question.

Gillian scowled in response, crossing her arms over her chest as she also crossed her legs and stared out of the nearby window. "I don't need them. I'm totally awesome all by myself."

He didn't visibly respond to that. Instead, he pulled a pen from his pocket and began to sign some of the papers in front of him. As Gill continued to glare out of the window and tap her feet against the floor as her jaw tensed irritably.

And then, after a few moments of silence, she continued. "It's not like I care. They can be stupid and unawesome and sleep with all of those trashy pieces of shit..."

"Language, Gillian."

Her scowl only deepened at that remark, but she continued. "I mean, just because they think that they're better than me. I could totally make lots and lots of awesome friends if I wanted to... I just don't want to because I'm way better alone. My awesomeness is just too much for anyone else to handle."

Mr. Klarkson lifted his head to watch her. "I'm sure it is, Gillian."

"It is!" And now she jerked to her feet and glared at him furiously. "I don't need them! And I'll prove it!"

And now she suddenly spun around and stomped to the door, slamming it open hard enough that the portraits hanging on the wall shook dangerously... And then she stomped through, slamming it closed.

Hard enough that one of those portraits fell right to the floor with a loud crash.

And she'd left her backpack sitting right underneath her chair.

And Mr. Klarkson sighed, dropping his pen and staring at the broken painting as he settled his cheek into his palm. "What a mess..."

~.~.~

"I'll show them." Gillian stomped down the hallway toward her locker, terrifying the other students into jumping aside as they caught a glimpse of the uncharacteristic scowl marring her usually happy face. The few unlucky students who weren't observant enough to notice her found themselves being unceremoniously shoved against lockers as she stomped straight through, not even noticing anyone else's presence. "Ignoring the awesome Gillian... Whatever. I'll just make new, way more awesome best friends..."

The only problem being—who would be her new, way more awesome best friends? This school was unfortunately lacking in totally awesome people...

"Ve~" And suddenly she paused at the familiar voice coming from a little way's down the hall. Where Feliciana was standing with her sister, clutching her books against her chest as she pouted sadly. "You forgot your lunch money, sorella? But I thought that you said that you always kept it in your purse..."

"Yeah, well..." Lovina had crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive posture and was staring off to the side, looking almost guilty. "I forgot it today... It's not like it's that important, though. I'll just get a candy bar out of the vending machine..."

"Ve~ but that's not a good lunch, sorella!" She reached forward and tugged on her sister's sleeve. "You could share my lunch! That's a lot better than a candy bar, sì?"

"I don't need to share your lunch!" And now they were starting to draw attention from more people than just Gillian. Including some of the girls who seemed to consider it their purpose in life to make Lovina's life miserable—as shown when they immediately turned to look at each other with interested smirks and then began to walk closer.

Which Lovina suddenly seemed to notice, as her face immediately paled and she took a few steps backwards... "Just—just leave me alone!"

Before darting away, leaving her sister standing there, looking absolutely devastated. Tears beginning to leak from the corners of her eyes as she hugged her books against her chest. "B—but, sorella... I just—"

And those evil vulture-girls were moving closer to Feliciana, probably wanting to make things even worse for the poor little thing. Gillian could feel her already-foul mood worsen at that thought. Fucking bitches deserved to get their tongues ripped out... Then they wouldn't be able to spread their nasty rumours around.

Which was why she immediately hurried down the hall in order to stand beside the smaller girl, startling her slightly as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder. And she sent her best warning glare toward the girls, who had immediately frozen in their tracks at her sudden appearance—a look that plainly stated that if they  _dared_ move any closer, she'd break every single one of their arms.

She almost hoped that they would move closer. She was itching for a fight—a way to release this furious tension.

But, instead, they turned and slunk off after sending her their own—not even close to intimidating—angry glares.

"V—ve~?"

And Gillian had almost completely forgotten why she'd hurried over here in the first place. And she looked down to see Feliciana standing there, staring up at her with wide, slightly teary eyes. Looking so cute and pathetic. It made Gillian's heart absolutely melt.

"G—Gill?"

Seriously. If she ever  _did_ try to conquer the world, Feli would be her secret weapon. Because who in the world could ever say no to something that utterly adorable? No one. Especially not her sick-up-the-ass brother.

Which was why Gillian was definitely going to be awesome right now and make things better for the utterly-adorable girl staring up at her. And she was going to keep those stupid vulture-girls away from her and Lovina—because Lovi was cute too, even if she wasn't quite as insanely-adorable as Feliciana.

"Hey, Feli." She smiled down at the younger girl, giving her a quick hug before moving away. "What's up? Is something wrong with Lovi?"

Feliciana blinked for a moment, obviously still slightly surprised by her unexpected appearance. But then she hurriedly nodded, glancing away as if hoping that her sister would have come back. "Lovi's sad about Antonio... And she forgot her lunch money but she won't take part of my lunch even though she doesn't eat very much anymore and..." And she was tearing up again. "Ve~ And I don't want sorella to be sad!"

And Gillian felt even angrier at that statement.

Okay, so she had no idea what was up with Antonio and Francis and Arthur. She  _assumed_ that something must have happened for them to suddenly start ignoring her, Lovi, Feli, and the others... But whatever had happened, there was no way that it could ever be terrible enough to justify doing this to them. No fucking way. And she was going to slug them at some point in order to show them exactly how she felt about them right now.

"Hey, hey, Fels~" she cooed, hurriedly hugging the girl and bending her head down slightly so she could rub their noses together—an action that she knew Feli had always enjoyed. Feli managed a soft giggle at the familiar sensation. "It'll be okay. Why don't we go find Lovi? I have extra money that she can use for lunch."

And now Feliciana turned her big brown eyes up toward her. "Really? Ve~ that would be perfect, Gilly~!"

"Good!" And now she slid her hand through the younger girl's and tugged her in the direction that she'd seen Lovina run. "So, let's go look for her!"

Feliciana giggled softly, following as quickly as she could while carrying a big stack of books. Which reminded Gill that she'd left her own backpack in the principal's office... Oh well, she'd probably get sent back there later today, so she could just get them then...

And she might have solved at least part of the problem of finding awesome new best friends. Since she was pretty sure that you couldn't get much more awesome than Feli... Although then again, she didn't want to steal Feli from Luddy, since he needed all the awesomeness that he could get...

Which meant that her awesome quest to find awesome new best friends would just have to continue... After she'd helped rescue Lovina from the clutches of the evil vulture-girls.


	11. Chapter 11

Day three of new job.

Day one had been one of the worst days of Leon's entire life. Day two had been (thankfully) mostly uneventful. He'd arrived and the Chief had proceeded to show him around the station and introduce him to the rest of the officers; he'd promptly forgotten all of their names. Then he'd been issued his firearm, set up his desk, etcetera etcetera etcetera. The day had entirely consisted of a massive whirlwind of information, most of which he couldn't recall.

And now, day three...

Day three had consisted so far of Leon sitting in Johnson's office, watching the other as he smoked, filled out paperwork, and completely ignored his presence...

Which, Leon had found incredibly uncomfortable. This was his new  _partner_ , after all; they should be learning about each other, right? So... he'd started rambling. As he had a tendency to do when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

"It seems like a nice town. I went out walking through the park near my apartment yesterday—Greenview Park, I think it was called. There were lots of people out, bunch of families with kids... It seems like a nice place to raise a family... Nice little town." He paused for a moment. "You married, by the way?"

Johnson didn't even look up, just shook his head and flicked the butt of his cigarette into the ash tray sitting in front of him.

Not really surprising. He definitely gave off the air of a bachelor.

"Any other family?" He scooted a bit closer to the desk and then rested his elbows on top of it, distractedly watching as Johnson's pen scratched across one of the sheets set in front of him.

"Mhm."

Leon jerked slightly at that sudden deep grunt, his elbows sliding forward slightly at the movement. Meaning that he almost lost balance, which would have probably ended with him smashing his chin against the desk. Damn it. Why couldn't he get used to that? Johnson was so quiet that any sound he made startled the hell out of him.

"Really? Do they live around here?"

Johnson shook his head slightly in response. Leon was starting to wonder if he might be annoying him. But the Chief had said that they should try to get to know each other, so...

"Oh. Well, that's all right too. I'm sure that you can go and visit them sometimes. Mom and dad? Brothers and sisters?"

"Parents." He hadn't jumped this time! That was a step in the right direction. "Three brothers..."

"Older or younger?"

"Older."

Leon tried to imagine what sort of siblings Johnson would have. He had the mental image of three huge, hulking, silent brutes...

...Which had definitely been reminiscent of a horror movie.

He should probably stop watching those things...

"That must have been fun, growing up..." He paused for a moment and then continued, "I don't have any siblings. I always kind of wondered what it would be like to have a younger brother or sister."

And now he was slightly surprised as the pen, which he had been watching as he talked, suddenly stopped moving. He was even more surprised when he glanced up to see that Johnson was now staring at him with a still-blank expression.

"Ah..." Leon hurriedly jerked his elbows off the desk and sat back in his seat at that look. Shit. He must have pissed him off. Probably since he kept rambling on while he was attempting to finish his work. "I shouldn't be bothering you. I should go see if the Chief has anything for me to do..."

But, Johnson frowned slightly at this. Maybe. His lips twitched downward at least... Maybe. Or it might have been a trick of the light. Leon was starting to think that he was going to have to get much better at reading body language if he wanted to be able to understand anything that went on in his partner's mind.

And then he shook his head once and tapped his pen against the desk. "Stay. Gives me somethin' to listen to..."

Leon blinked in response and then nodded once. A little unsure of how to take that. He didn't mind then? Or was he just trying to be polite? "Okay..." Well, if he told him to stay... Besides, the Chief seemed to want the two of them to spend time together. Get to know each other. All that stuff.

Although, he wasn't really sure what to talk about now. So, he started looking around the room. For the first time, actually... And suddenly noticed that this room was rather bare of personal touches, actually. No pictures of family members or loved ones or pets. No awards or diplomas or anything...

Which suddenly reminded him... Of the question that he should have asked Johnson as soon as he met him. But, of course, he'd completely forgotten about it until now. "You know, I was just thinking... You never actually told me your first name. I mean, everybody calls you Johnson. Do you prefer it or something? I mean, it feels a little weird for me to just call you 'Johnson' and not know your first name..." Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember hearing anyone call Johnson anything other than 'Johnson'. The Chief, that kid, the other officers...

"Johnson."

Leon blinked. And then shook his head. "I was just wondering what your first name was. I mean, if you prefer me calling you by your last name, then that's fine..."

"Just Johnson..."

Okay...?

Johnson lifted his head again, meeting Leon's gaze with his usual expression. "Don't got a first name. Just Johnson."

"You...don't have a first name?"

He shook his head once. And then returned to his paperwork. Pen scratching across the sheet, as if what he'd just stated was completely and totally normal...

Wait, had he been serious?

Leon opened his mouth—to continue his questioning—but was unfortunately interrupted when the door swung open. To reveal the Chief, standing there and smiling...rather suspiciously, actually. Leon was reminded of his grandmother. Which instantly sent waves of paranoia through his body...

"There you are, Kennedy. I've been looking for you. I need to talk to you about something."

And Leon definitely didn't like the sound of that. It sounded suspicious... Especially since the Chief wasn't meeting his eyes when he said it. If there was one thing that Leon had learned from having his grandmother as a grandmother, it was to trust his instincts when it came to suspicious things...

Not that it usually helped him when it came to his grandmother, since she was the queen at acting in an insanely confusing fashion. You always knew when she was up to something, but you never knew exactly what she was up to. It was incredibly aggravating.

However, unfortunately for him right now, this guy happened to be his boss. So it wasn't like he could ignore him or anything.

Well, he couldn't ignore him if he actually wanted to keep this job.

For a moment, he didn't move. But then he rose to his feet, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at Johnson. Who was watching them, cigarette held between his fingers as he breathed out a narrow trail of smoke. The other hand was holding his pen, which he lightly tapped against his desk in a syncopated rhythm.

"And put that cigarette out, Johnson!" The Chief left the room, but called this over his shoulder before closing the door. Leon was pretty sure, however, that Johnson was going to ignore the order... Just going off of these last few days...

Not that the Chief really seemed to care. It almost felt like an inside joke between the two.

As partially evidenced when the older man turned away from the other and focused his complete attention to the rookie. And then smiled apologetically. "Sorry about interrupting you. This should only take a few minutes."

Leon nodded, following as the Chief began heading in the general direction of his office.

They walked in silence for a few minutes and then, the Chief chuckled slightly and glanced back toward the other man. "I have something to ask you, Kennedy. It's rather unconventional and probably not what you were expecting or were trained for, but this isn't something that I can ask of anyone else..."

Definitely sounded suspicious. Leon frowned slightly in response, but then nodded his understanding. "Yes..."

"You see..." He slowed so they were walking side by side. "We've been having problems recently with a group of juvenile delinquents. Petty vandalism, underage drinking, theft, that sort of thing. Honestly, it's driving me insane. I've tried everything that I can think of outside of sending all of them to juvenile hall, which I'd prefer to keep as a last resort, since I know the kids and I know their families and everything... They're all brilliant kids and the last thing that I want is for their futures to be completely shot just because they happened to do idiotic things when they were young."

Leon hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "Understandable."

They stopped outside of the Chief's office now; the older man rested his hand on top of the doorknob, but didn't turn it yet. "And I know that this is a lot to ask of you, especially since you've only been here for a few days, but I feel like it might be helpful. Having someone new, fresh, unprejudiced... Plus, you're not much older than they are, really."

Okay, so he was really starting to get a bad feeling about this... But... "What exactly would you want me to do?"

The Chief tapped his fingers against the wooden doorframe and then continued. "Basically, I just want you to spend time with him. Try to keep him out of trouble, on the 'straight and narrow', that sort of thing. Sort of like a big brother... I know it's a lot to ask, Kennedy, but this is really our last option."

This job was  _definitely_  not what he'd expected. Well, now he knew better than to accept any help from his grandmother. Ever.

He wasn't sure how he should respond. He didn't want to get involved with this. No way. The last thing that he wanted to do was get involved with some severely messed-up kids. But at the same time, his boss was asking for help...

Thankfully, this train of thought derailed as soon as the Chief twisted the doorknob and opened the door to his office.

Unfortunately, his train of thought was derailed because it looked as if a bomb had gone off in his boss's office.

Paperwork had been thrown absolutely  _everywhere_ ; many of them looked as if they'd been torn. Paintings had been ripped off the walls and dropped onto the floor; all of the chairs had been knocked over... Long scratches had been dug into the top of his desk. And black spray paint marred the formerly-white walls, crude letters plainly reading 'Fuck the Pigs'...

And a boy was now sitting on the windowsill, one leg outside while the other remained inside, green eyes flashing at them with fury mixed with definite triumph.

A very familiar-looking boy was sitting on the windowsill.

...A very familiar-looking boy that Leon now definitely recognized. Now  _definitely_ recognized. Same furious green eyes, blond hair tousled. He froze in horror. This was the same boy that he had seen giving a blow job to that French boy a couple days ago...

And now said teenager flipped both of them off with a parting "Fuck you" and then threw his other leg over the windowsill, dropping right outside.

Leaving the two of them standing inside inside the demolished room. Leon gaping at where the boy had just been sitting.

And the Chief standing there, frowning to himself as he looked over the disaster... Probably mentally racking up how much this would all cost.

And then he turned toward Leon with a slight shrug.

"Meet Arthur Kirkland..."


	12. Chapter 12

Fucking pigs.

As if he was about to go that easily. If those fucking bastards wanted to lock him up, then they were going to have to work for it.

He had known that they'd try to do it the easy way, though. He'd been waiting the entire day for the call, after all. He'd even made sure to attend all of his classes just so he wouldn't miss it. And had been rather pleased when the phone rang near the end of his English literature class—although he really would have been happier if it had come during his biology class, since he actually enjoyed literature...

"Mr. Kirkland, you're wanted in the principal's office." Every eye had turned toward him at that, many of the expressions either holding looks of disgust or smirks that plainly read 'Ha, now you're finally gonna get what's coming to you'.

Arthur couldn't care less what they thought of him. He'd just stood up, not giving any of them the satisfaction of an answer, and then left the room and stalked down toward the front door.

And, just as expected, a cop car was sitting right in front of the school. The principal leaning against the door, the police chief sitting on the front hood.

"Morning, Arthur."

"Morning, fucker." He'd slid his hands into his pockets and rested his weight on his back leg, smirking toward the principal. "Good guess, by the way... I was hoping that you'd actually be stupid enough to assume that I'd come to your office like a good little git."

Mr. Klarkson sighed and shook his head. "Arthur, I didn't want things to come to this, but you don't give us much choice. The chief has already talked to your father about—"

"That man isn't my fucking father!" He had jerked forward at that, mostly unaware of his own actions. He knew that he had reached into his pocket and he must have pulled out the pocketknife that he was in the habit of carrying with him to school. Because he'd suddenly felt his arms being yanked behind his back by an extremely powerful grip... He'd struggled, but the man had been much more powerful than he was, so it didn't do anything...

And then he'd felt the all-too-familiar feel of handcuffs sliding around his wrists. Although, unlike all the other times that he'd worn them, this was in an entirely real situation...

And then he'd been led to the waiting squad car and pushed inside... Now able to identify the man who'd handcuffed him. Although he really should have guessed from the smell of cigarettes... Johnson. No wonder he hadn't been able to escape.

And he could also see hundreds of eyes staring at him from the school's windows.

Fucking bastards.

They'd driven to the police station after that, Arthur scowling as he glared out of the window. Johnson and the chief sitting in the front, mostly silent, except for when the chief asked Johnson "You remember what time I told Leon to come in?" and was answered with a shrug. Or what he assumed was supposed to be a shrug.

Then, once they'd arrived, he'd been taken upstairs to the Chief's office and settled in a chair in front of the desk. Johnson had left; the Chief had sat down on the opposite side of the desk.

And just started talking.

About absolutely nothing—he'd mentioned something about a new business opening down the street, how he had to get a birthday gift for his wife at some point today. Arthur had been completely startled by the choice of conversation. And had just sat there, staring at him in confusion.

"Oh, I should probably take those off." He'd heard that, though. And had been rather shocked when the man walked behind him and unlocked the handcuffs, freeing his arms. "Sorry, I forgot about it... And I should probably go down and find Leon. You wait here for me."

And then he'd left.

Just  _left_.

Arthur had  _seen_  the Chief of police before, although he'd never actually interacted with him. Who would want to? He hadn't been anything like he'd expected...

He'd been a lot stupider than he'd expected for one thing.

Seriously, leaving him all alone in his office... The bastard had deserved to have the place completely trashed, which was what Arthur had proceeded to do. Tear the place apart as quickly as possible; he'd even found a can of spray paint in a closet, so he'd been able to leave a little personalized greeting.

His timing had been perfect, as he'd finished right before he heard the Chief's voice coming from outside. And he had one leg out of the window right before the door opened. Revealing the Chief and another cop who looked vaguely familiar...

Eh, whatever. He'd flipped them both off and left with a parting "Fuck you", and then dropped to the ground—two stories below.

His leg was absolutely killing him now because of that, but it had definitely been worth it. That would teach the pigs to fuck around with him.

He was currently sitting on one of the buses, rubbing at his swelling ankle as he headed toward his home—soon to be his former home, just twelve more days now. His mother was going to burst into tears as soon as he stepped through the front door, since the last time he'd actually  _been_ home was...four days ago? Something like that. She'd start pleading with him to talk to her. Asking what was wrong and why he was doing this and 'please stop, Arthur...I'm worried about you'. As if she had no idea what the problem was.

And  _that man_  would be there too. He'd be furious. Arthur knew that he'd start asking questions about where he'd been, what he'd been doing. He'd go off about how he was fucking up his future. How he shouldn't make his mother worry. And that was assuming they hadn't found out about the police. Which they would have, since  _those_  bloody wankers would have heard all about it already. The rumour had probably spread  _all_  over their fucking  _posh_  school already...

He snorted in irritation at the thought of his new  _step_ -brothers. He could just imagine how they would react to finding out that their new  _darling_ little brother had been removed from school by the cops. They'd probably be pretty pissed. Not that he cared at all...

"Hamlet Road!"

And Arthur pulled himself out of his seat at his street's name, thankful that there weren't many people on the bus at this time of the day. He didn't want to fight through a crowd in order to limp his way off of the bus.

And  _joy_. Guess who was currently standing in their driveway, waiting beside his truck with the door wide open in preparation to leave—probably would have left already if it weren't for the fact that Arthur's mother was standing right beside the truck, wringing her hands as she talked. Apparently upset over something. She was a complete mess. Her hair was tangled and snarled; she wasn't wearing makeup; dark circles were clearly visible under her eyes.

"Arthur!" And she'd noticed him. Arthur had considered turning right around and heading back to Francis's house—or somewhere else like that, maybe not Francis's house, since that'd be the first place the cops would look for him. Unfortunately, she'd noticed him before he had a chance to escape. And now was running toward him.

And within a few seconds, he found himself being crushed against her chest.

"Arthur!" She was cutting off his circulation... "Arthur! Where have you been? We were worried sick about you! Why were you picked up by the police from school? What did you  _do_ , Arthur?"

Yep, the rumour had gotten to their school. Arthur pushed himself away, flashing a quick glare toward the house. Where he could see three pairs of eyes staring out at him. Wait until he got a hold of them... "It's  _nothing_ , mother. Just a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding." And now  _he_ was going to get involved. He slammed his truck door closed now and walked over, glaring down at the much shorter boy. "What kind of  _misunderstanding_ led to you being arrested in front of the entire school? I was just about to head down to the police station to find out what the hell you did."

"Clay..." And now his mother was going to attempt to smooth things over between them, just like she always did. "Why don't we talk about this inside?"

Both of them ignored her, Arthur's hands clenching into fists as he shifted his weight away from his injured ankle, attempting to keep from wincing in pain.

"No, we're going to talk about this right  _now_. I want to know where you've been and what you've been doing—we've been hearing plenty of rumours about you."

Good. Hopefully the rumours were staying true to life. He wouldn't want any of his work to be toned down for them. Arthur shifted his weight again, about to respond—he hadn't quite decided yet  _how_ to respond, but he was sure that he'd be able to come up with something sufficient. Unfortunately, his words were cut off when a jolt of pain shot through his entire body and his ankle immediately gave out.

He would have fallen straight to the ground if his mother hadn't noticed the expression of pain and jerked forward to grab him. "Arthur! Oh, God. Clay, he's hurt. Help me bring him inside."

Damn it.

Arthur immediately pushed himself away. There was no fucking way that he was letting that man near him. No. Fucking. Way. "I'm fine. I can make it by myself."

"But, Arthur..."

He limped past them, completely ignoring his mother's attempts to convince him to stop and let them help, and instead slammed the door open and walked inside.

And was immediately greeted by three figures waiting in the living room... Three figures who were staring at him with expressions ranging anywhere from disinterested (Maxen) to intensely irritated and disgusted (Duncan).

Duncan, of course, was the first to speak. He'd been standing closest to the door, muscular arms crossed over his chest in an incredibly irritated posture. He was Arthur's oldest step brother—oldest, strongest, with the worst temper. The two of them fought almost constantly...

"Well, look who it is. And 'ere I thought ye'd be spendin' the night in the slammer. So what'd ya do this time?"

"None of your bloody business." Probably not the best thing to say to his step-brother when he was already ticked off, but Arthur really couldn't care less right now. He actually would love it if the wanker took a swing at him. He could take his aggression out on someone else.

Unfortunately, Seamus stepped forward before either could throw a punch, his mossy-green eyes settling an irritated glare on both of them before settling on Arthur. And then he sighed and shook his head. "Come on, Arthur. Mam's been worried sick about you. Why did the cops take you out of school?"

"No clue." And now he glanced across the room to where his Maxen was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. See, now why couldn't everyone just mind their own business and leave him alone? It wouldn't be too much longer before they didn't have to bother with him ever again, after all...

And now he could hear the front door slamming opened, which he was going to take as a signal that he should get out of here before he had to deal with the crying and the begging and all that other shit. So, he pushed past Seamus and half-stomped, half-hobbled up the stairway and toward his bedroom, ignoring the shouts of indignation coming from below.

Two weeks was way too long...


	13. Chapter 13

Leon hated how easy it was to guilt him into doing things that he really didn't want to do. He really  _really_ hated that aspect of his personality. Okay, so he  _technically_  hadn't agreed to the chief's request yet, but he knew himself well enough to know that he  _would_ agree to it. Because that's just how the universe worked.

He was going to be attempting to help lead some severely messed up teenager back onto the straight and narrow.

How hilariously ironic. Hard to believe that his grandmother hadn't been at least partly responsible for  _that_ placement.

He sighed as he rested his elbows against the steering wheel and settled his chin in his palms. He really should have moved somewhere else. Somewhere where absolutely no one knew anything about him or his past. It'd make things a hell of a lot easier...

Besides, if he moved somewhere else, then maybe his crappy luck would finally stop harassing him.

At the moment, he was not only severely ticked off at his own personality, but he was also incredibly irritated with the universe as a whole. Since said universe had created the only thing that he hated more than his inability to grow a backbone: crappy rental cars that decided to randomly break down in the middle of some unfamiliar part of town.

In the middle of a rainstorm.

When he wasn't carrying a cell phone.

This was probably karma. He'd been considering saying no to the chief, so now the universe was getting back at him. It was the only explanation that made any sense.

He was currently just sitting in the driver's seat of said crappy rental car, focusing on breathing in and out. In and out. He was calm. Completely calm. At least he'd broken down in the middle of a residential area. All he had to do was get out of the car and sprint up to one of the houses. He'd ring the doorbell, ask to use their phone, and call his grandmother.

He could imagine her smirk now. Devilish, masked as innocent amusement.

First thing tomorrow morning, he was going to go out and buy his own car. Which was going to be a  _wonderful_  experience, he was sure...

He stared out of the windshield, watching as the rain splattered against the glass and then ran down in streams. Maybe he could even ask Johnson to come with him. He imagined that it would be useful to bring someone like Johnson along when dealing with used car salesmen.

And now he started slightly, as he noticed someone trudging along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Someone wearing a dark blue hoodie who was walking with shoulders hunched in an attempt to protect against the rain. And...the hair that had managed to escape from under the hoodie was...it looked white.

White.

And Leon had managed to throw his car door open before he had the chance to think through his action. "Hey!"

And the girl turned, ruby-coloured eyes widening slightly as their eyes met. Obviously recognizing him. Yes, this was the girl that he'd pulled out of the way of that car. The albino girl. She was shivering; it was easy to tell, even from this distance. She was clutching the soaked fabric of her hoodie closer to her body, probably in an attempt to conserve body heat. Water was streaming down her face; the silvery strands that had managed to escape were sticking to her skin.

She looked completely miserable.

"Get in."

And what the  _hell_ had he just said?

He couldn't take the words back now, though. No matter how much he wanted to. Yeah, this looks great. Random twenty-year-old guy just sitting in some junk car in the middle of a residential neighbourhood. He calls for some teenage girl to get into the car with him...

Then again, it might be a good thing if someone called the cops on him. Then he could at least get a ride back to the station.

The girl hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking in the direction that she'd been heading. He was rather hoping that she would just ignore his offer and decide to continue on towards wherever she had been heading. But that hope was dashed when she turned and started walking towards his car. Crossing over to the passenger's side, throwing open the door, and sliding into the seat without a word.

And they just sat there for a few seconds in silence, Leon unconsciously staring at her as he attempted to figure out what he was supposed to do now... She looked like she was probably about sixteen-years-old, maybe a little younger. He'd never been very good at guessing girls' ages.

Which begged the question of why a teenage girl was walking around outside in the middle of a downpour. Especially without a jacket. She was going to catch pneumonia or something...

A teenage girl who apparently didn't mind getting into cars with people she didn't know. He frowned slightly as he watched her settle herself back into the seat, and then remarked, "You shouldn't just get into cars with complete strangers."

She jerked her head up at this, obviously a little surprised by the statement, as she just blinked at him owlishly for a few seconds. And then a faint smirk crossed over her lips. One that rather reminded him of his grandmother's smirks, actually—just like the one that she would have when she came to pick him up...

Maybe if he waited long enough, it would stop raining and he could just walk home. It couldn't be  _that_ far from here.

"You aren't a complete stranger, though. You're the one who saved Awesome from getting squished by that car, right?" She leaned back slightly in the seat, kicking her boot-clad feet up onto his dashboard in a rather cocky movement. He started to open his mouth to protest, but then remembered exactly what useless piece-of-junk he was sitting in...

Instead, Leon leaned back in his own seat, watching as she pushed her hood back; revealing a mess of tangled snowy-white hair that looked like it  _had_ been pulled back into a ponytail at one point. Most of it seemed to have escaped from the hair tie, however.

"I'm Gill. Gill Beilschmidt. With a 'g', because g's are awesome letters. Although not as awesome as q's. Who're you?"

And she'd said all of that in pretty much one breath. All while staring at him with a rather curious expression, fingers running through her hair in a vague attempt at controlling the strands.

He had apparently been correct in his first impression of her; she was definitely a little strange. "Ah, I'm Leon—"

"And it's okay to get into a car with you anyway, since you're a cop, right?"

Ah, he'd completely forgotten that he was still wearing his uniform... He probably should have changed before he left the station, but he'd been rather intensely distracted at that point. Since he'd spent pretty much the entire day helping the chief clean up his office, trying to think of some way to convince said chief that asking  _him_ to help out a severely disturbed teenager was not a good idea. And then, once they'd finally finished, he'd hurried out of the building, hoping that he could beat the rain home.

Obviously, that hadn't happened.

And now he had a random girl sitting in the car with him. It wasn't like he could even take her home or anything... Or call her parents. Or really do anything except sit here and watch her awkwardly. He was a terrible police officer.

She didn't seem to mind though, as now she proceeded to twist around in order to look in the backseat of his probably-diseased car, frowning in what looked like disappointment at the sight. "This isn't a cop car, though. It would be cooler if it was a cop car."

"This is my rental car. I'm not on duty right now."

And now she turned back around, staring at him with bright eyes. "You're new, right? 'Cause I've never seen you before and Awesome knows  _everyone_ around here. 'Cept you do look familiar." And now she suddenly climbed up onto her knees and leaned forward until she was only a few inches away from his face.

He automatically blinked and leaned back, startled by the sudden invasion of his personal space.

"You look  _super_ familiar."

"I—well, my gra—"

"I know what it is!" And now she suddenly flopped back into her seat, before leaning forward and popping open the glove compartment. "You look like the cop that was in this movie I saw! 'Cept that he had a gun in his glove compartment and he fought zombies... You should really have a gun in your glove compartment, by the way. What if some robbers suddenly tried to attack your car? Or the entire town was suddenly taken over by zombies or aliens or monsters from the future? You'd wish that you had a gun in your glove compartment if that happened."

...Okay, she was more than a  _little_ strange.

Still, he couldn't help but smile slightly as she rattled on. Waiting for her to stop so he could actually answer her question. "I just moved here a few days ago, actually..."

"Awesome!" And she cut him off again. "I should show you around! I could be a totally awesome tour guide! I can introduce you to everyone!"

Leon was vaguely wondering what it would be like if this girl and Johnson were ever in the same room together. They'd probably get along amazingly, since she apparently loved talking just as much as Johnson loved not talking.

"Was there a reason that you were walking around in the middle of a downpour without a jacket?"

And Leon was rather startled by her reaction to this question, which he had asked more out of curiousity than anything else. As she suddenly froze, her expression changing from the former happy excitement to intense irritation mixed with more than a touch of sadness. She folded her arms over her chest, falling heavily back against her seat. Face turning to glare out of the window. "I was walking home."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Apparently he'd just touched upon an uncomfortable subject. He was suddenly brought back to the first time that he'd laid eyes on her, how she'd just run across the road without even stopping... He had the sudden feeling that these two events were intertwined.

But he was interrupted from these thoughts as she continued after a few uncomfortable moments. "My ex-best friends are being douches, okay? I got a little pissed off at them and decided to walk home from school by myself and it started raining." She shrugged and then turned her head to flash him a slight grin, which definitely looked more forced than her former smiles. "Nothing very interesting... I wasn't going to go rob something if that's what you were hoping for."

Leon didn't respond immediately; instead he just watched as the girl began to scrape at the mud covering her boots, letting the crumbs fall onto the carpet.

Ex-best friends... That would explain it. Getting upset over a few ruined friendships... Poor kid.

"Anything I can do?"

And he had not expected that to come out of his mouth. He really needed to learn to think before he spoke. Hadn't he just been telling himself that he didn't want to get involved in any juvenile problems in this town? He wasn't some high school counsellor or anything like that. And if he  _was_ going to get involved, then he definitely shouldn't be worried about some girl's friendship problems... Even if she did seem really upset. And he was starting to feel a tiny sense of protectiveness over her, since he  _had_ pulled her out of the path of a car not too long ago.

Okay, and she was cute. And he'd never been able to resist helping out a girl when she was upset. He'd been like that since elementary school. And it'd only gotten worse since...

...Anyway...

She immediately lifted her eyes at his statement, looking a little surprised again. Obviously not expecting that sort of remark. But then her lips twitched into a happier smile. "You want to help me?" And then she chuckled softly, shaking her head as she let her feet fall back against the floor. "Nein. Nein. I don't need them. If Francis and Antonio are gonna ditch me to go screw around with Arthur, then good riddance. I can totally make new, more awesome friends." She hesitated at this, red eyes now fixated on him, looking him over... Before a wider, mischievous smile broke out over her lips.

Not that Leon was really paying her too much attention now, since his brain had just stopped working.

At those names... She had just said Arthur and Francis.

No. No, no, no. He knew that the universe didn't like him much, but there was just no way. There was no possible way that it hated him  _that_ much.

Maybe there were some other kids in this town named Arthur and Francis...

...

Yes, because those were such common names nowadays. There were probably a hundred just in this town.

Shit.

"You can be my new friend!" He was suddenly jerked back into the present by her sudden exclamation, particularly when coupled by her reaching out and grabbed his arm, shaking it with surprising force. He turned, rather startled, and was greeted by a pair of joyful red eyes. "We can totally hang out together and you can show me your gun and let me ride in your  _real_ cop car and it'll be totally awesome!"

"Huh?"

"Wait'll I tell my bruder!" And now she suddenly threw the door open, letting in a gust of rain, and then jumped right out of the car. She turned, not even seeming to care that she was getting drenched again. "Bye bye, Leon! I'll see you tomorrow!"

And then she was gone, giggling as she ran down the street, only pausing to jump into the biggest puddle on the sidewalk, sending a spray of water up around her.

While Leon just watched, completely shocked by her sudden departure. Ignoring the fact that she'd left the door wide open...

...Then he groaned and allowed his head to fall against the steering wheel, letting out an obnoxious honk. "Okay, you win. I'll do it."

Fine. If the universe wanted him to deal with a severely messed up juvenile delinquent so badly, then he'd do it. But if he screwed the kid up even more, then it was not his fault.

...And he really should have asked her if she had a cell phone. That would have been the intelligent thing to do.

...His apartment couldn't really be  _that_ far from here, could it?


	14. Chapter 14

Antonio hated to see her cry.

He hated to see anyone cry, really.

But he especially hated to walk into his home after school and see his mother sitting at the kitchen table, head bent over a stack of bills, tears dripping down onto the formerly pristinely-white envelopes.

He knew that they needed money. Mamá tried to make it seem like everything was okay, but Antonio knew that they desperately needed money. The tomatoes hadn't done very well this last season; they hadn't been able to sell as many as they usually did. Mamá had gone out and gotten a job at a restaurant, but he knew that it wasn't enough.

He wanted to work. He wanted to help, but she wouldn't let him… And even if she would, he was still too young for anyone to hire him.

It made him feel sad and angry and helpless.

 _This_  was even worse, though… Instead of her leaning over the table and crying, she was standing in the kitchen with a piece of paper crumpled in her fist and the telephone pressed against her ear. "No, hijo de puta!"

Antonio had never heard his mother say anything like that… He wasn't sure what to do. If he should come in or just stand out here…

She paused for a while now, thankfully facing away from him. And then suddenly slammed her fist against the table and choked out an infuriated "Vete al infierno!" before slamming the phone against the receiver hard enough that  _some_ _thing_  cracked.

There were now a few seconds of silence. And then she groaned and dropped down into one of the chairs, head falling against the table as she started murmuring, "Mierda… Por qué? Por qué ahora?"

Antonio just stood there, nervously clenching and unclenching his fists. He hated this. Especially since he had no idea what he could do to help her. He didn't even know what was  _wrong_ , so how could he help her? But he hated to see his madre so upset.

And then, after a few moments, her head lifted and their eyes met. Surprise passing across her expression before she hurriedly sat up straight and wiped at her tear-stained cheeks. "Ah, hijo. Lo siento. No... Ah… I—I didn't hear you come in."

"What's wrong, Mamá?" He dropped his backpack onto the floor and hurried over to stand behind her, hugging her tightly around the shoulders. Hoping that this could at least comfort her a little bit. Who had she been talking to? Someone wanting more money that they didn't have?

"That was…" she hesitated, and then sighed. "That was your padre…"

Antonio immediately felt his stomach knot up at those words. 'Your  _padre_.'

That had been the last thing that he'd expected her to say. The last person that he would have expected to call her.

Antonio had never actually met his father. He had no desire to do so either. He knew some vague things about the man. He knew that his name was Rubén Fernandez Covas and that he and Mamá had started dating when she was fifteen and he was eighteen. He'd even seen pictures of them from that time, of his Mamá—very young and very very pretty—with a man who looked a lot like an older, sterner version of himself. There was one picture in particular that he remembered quite clearly. The two of them had been in Madrid, standing in front of la Puerta de Toledo. Mamá wearing a light blue summer dress, her hair blowing in the wind, looking so happy and beautiful...

Exactly three weeks after that picture was taken, she found out that she was pregnant. And, completely terrified and unsure of what to do, she had gone to tell his father. Who responded by telling her to have an abortion. Have an abortion or he would leave her.

She had refused—obviously, or Antonio wouldn't be here right now. And he followed through with his threat; he took a job in Seville and moved away without even saying goodbye…

Antonio hated his father. He hated him for doing that to his Mamá. Leaving her…

She had decided to move to the States after that—her older brother and his new wife had offered her a place to stay. Antonio had been born after she moved in with them… And then she'd worked as a waitress for the next few years, saving up her money until she could afford to buy a broken-down little tomato farm, which she, her brother, and his wife had spent almost an entire year fixing up.

That was all Antonio really knew about his father. Mamá had told him all of this a couple years ago and he hadn't pressed afterwards. Since it was easy to tell that it was hard for her to talk about. Besides, it wasn't like it mattered anyway. He was completely fine without a padre.

Sometimes he wished that Mamá wasn't all alone, though.

"Padre? Why is he calling you  _now_?"

And now his madre sighed, pushing at a clump of dark curls that had fallen into her face. She was staring blankly across the room, biting at her bottom lip. "He—he said that he wanted to apologize. For everything. He said that he was young and stupid and he wants to meet you. He asked me when you had break, if you could fly out to visit him. He'd pay for the ticket and everything…" She snorted and rested her head in her hands, glancing up towards him. "I shouldn't have been screaming at him like that, querido. Lo siento."

"No." Antonio dropped into a seat beside her. "Está bien." He could feel his stomach clench up again in anger. Why? Why would he ask that? What would make him think that Antonio would want to have anything to do with him after what he'd done to Madre?

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "I just… After all of these years…"

And she trailed off, staring blankly at one of the walls for a long while. It made Antonio  _want_ to take his father up on that offer. So he could go up and punch him right in the face.

After a few moments, though, she hurriedly shook her head and stood up. "Lo siento. I should start making dinner, sí? I need to go into work tonight." She walked to the cabinets and began searching for something to make. There weren't many options, since they were almost entirely bare. Just a few tomatoes and a box of pasta.

There had to be a way to get money for Mamá. Someone might pay him to help them mow their lawn or rake their leaves or something like that… As long as she didn't find out. Since Madre didn't like it when he said that he wanted to help work.

"Ah, hijo…" She startled him out of his thoughts when she suddenly turned around, holding a few of the tomatoes in her hands. "You haven't brought Lovina over in a long time. Did something happen?"

Antonio felt his heart immediately skip a beat at that name.  _Lovi…_

Lovi hated him. He knew that. She  _should_ hate him; she had ever right to hate him. Since he'd started ignoring her and avoiding her and being mean to her. She should hate him forever…

The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. It hurt now to see Lovina in school, walking down the hallway with her sister. She seemed quieter than usual, not as apt to suddenly start yelling at people for no good reason. And he desperately wanted to know why. He wanted to know what was wrong with her. He wanted to go up to her and apologize for everything and tell her how much he missed her…

But he couldn't.

Because Lovi was special to him. And he knew that he, Francis, and Arthur were doing terrible things that she couldn't get involved with… They were drinking and doing vandalism and going out with all of these different people and…he sometimes suspected that Arthur and Francis were doing even worse things that he didn't know about.

And, he didn't want Lovi to get involved in any of that. Because Lovi was special and amazing and wonderful and she was—well, used to be—his best friend…

It was just like how it was with Gill. Francis had told him that they should stop hanging out with her as much. Because Gill was the sort of person who'd want to do whatever they were doing. And she couldn't…

In all honesty, Antonio really had no idea how he'd even gotten involved in any of this. He'd just followed Francis, because he always followed Francis. Because he had to make sure that Francis was okay and that he wasn't ever alone.

"Lovi…" He hesitated. And then sighed and contined, "Lovi's been busy. She has lots of new friends now." And he knew that was true. He saw Lovi hanging out with groups of girls all the time. So it was okay, because Lovi would make new friends easily.

"But that doesn't mean you should just forget old friends." And Antonio felt his stomach twist a little at those words, as Mamá began to chop the tomatoes into tiny pieces on the counter. "You should bring her over again. I've missed seeing her; it'll be nice to know how she's doing."

"Ah, sí." He watched the knife as it flashed and chopped.

And this whole thing was a disaster. He missed Lovi. He missed Lovi and he missed Gill, and he wanted things to go back to the way they were before…

But he knew that they couldn't. And he had to stay with Francis. He had to make sure that nothing bad happened to Francis.


	15. Chapter 15

"What did they want?"

Francis was currently seated on his bed, frowning down at the paperwork spread across his sheets. Running away from home was a lot more work than he'd expected, especially when you were planning on stealing a large chunk of your parents' life savings in order to do it. There were a lot of things to consider, research to do. He used his shoulder to hold the phone in place against his ear as he picked up one of the papers... Four hundred pounds per night.

Well, if you were going to run away to London, then you might as well do it properly.

The first thing that he did once he arrived home, after sneaking a bottle of wine from the cellar and pouring himself a glass, was call Arthur. To try to find out what exactly had happened earlier today. All he knew was what that the rumours said that Arthur had been arrested and taken out of school by the cops around lunchtime.

He assumed that that particular rumour wasn't true, since Arthur was currently talking to him on the phone from his own home. Unless, of course, he'd decided to jailbreak. Which Francis wouldn't put past him.

Arthur snorted derisively in response to his question. "Don't know. I didn't bother to ask."

Of course. Only Arthur wouldn't bother to find out why the cops had taken him out of school... Francis sighed in irritation. "Cher, you could have at least found out  _why_  they wanted you."

"Yes, because I'm going to just hang out in the pig's office right after trashing it." Francis could hear pounding on Arthur's end, coupled with muffled shouting. Arthur just ignored it. "I don't think that they were actually planning on arresting me. I mean, the Chief took me up to his office, took the hand cuffs off. And then he eventually came back with that cop from last night."

" _Really_?" That perked Francis's attention. He shifted the phone as he pushed himself back against the headboard. "I wonder why..."

"I don't know." Arthur sounded more irritated than usual. "I didn't bother asking."

Really, Arthur could stand to gain some curiosity. "So you left before you could find out why you were arrested  _and_ before you could find out why the Chief was bringing you that delectable piece of ass? Honestly, Arthur, I'm disappointed in you."

Arthur didn't answer him for a moment, and then—in the most disgusted tone possible, "Don't tell me you want to fuck the pig?"

"Oui." He grinned, falling farther into the pillows set behind him. "He pulls his uniform off so well, non? Although, I imagine that he'd look even better with it  _off_..." And now his hand began slipping down his body as he ran through the mental images...  _Many_... Very  _appealing_  mental images...

"If you start wanking off, I'm hanging up." And Arthur's honeyed, dulcet tones broke right through those appealing mental images with all of the grace of a stampeding herd of hippopotamuses.

Francis sighed and returned his hand to its proper place. "You're no fun, mon cher."

"Go fuck yourself."

Francis would have responded that he was pretty much  _about_ to do that, before Arthur had interrupted him. But then he was distracted as the background pounding increased. And someone was yelling something about opening the door...

Arthur sighed. "Bloody hell. Why can't the wankers leave me alone?"

"Your step-brothers?" Francis had met Arthur's three older step-brothers a few times... They didn't like him. Then again, nobody in Arthur's family especially liked him. Probably thought he was a bad influence or something. He couldn't  _imagine_ why they would think that...

He could hear Arthur moving around; the springs creaked again and now he could hear the sound of a window being opened. "Yeah. Them. Fucking pieces of shit. I already jumped out of a window and twisted my bloody ankle. Now  _they're_ going to make me do it again."

"You jumped out of a window?" And now Francis jerked upright. "Are you okay?"

"I just said that I twisted my fucking ankle, didn't I?" Arthur snarled those words out, much more irritated than strictly necessary. But then again, he was probably at least partly taking his irritation with his brothers out on him. "Now shut up. I've gotta go..."

"Do you want me to pick you up?" Francis had already pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his jacket from where he'd thrown it on a chair earlier. "I can come get you—"

"Don't bother." The shouting was getting louder and Arthur sounded more distracted. "I'm going to go get fucking sloshed and then I'll find somewhere to stay. Don't you dare come... You're too bloody ostentatious with your fucking limos and whatever else the hell you drive around in..."

Francis frowned, still holding his jacket in his hands. Knowing that he shouldn't listen. Arthur was  _not_ the best judge of what was safe and what wasn't. As seen by what had happened with that thug... "If you're hurt, though..."

"Fuck off." And again with the vulgarity. "I said that I'm fine. Now, I've got to go before they break the bloody door down."

And Francis was immediately left with the dial tone.

...Why in the world did he worry about Arthur so much? If he ever got killed or arrested, it'd be entirely his own fault. Francis shouldn't feel responsible for him.

But he did.

He sighed and dropped back onto the bed, gaze returning to the papers spread across the sheets. Dieu... Things were so fucked up right now.

~.~.~

Arthur hated his step-brothers.

He also hated his step-father. His mother. The fucking pigs. The girls that he, Francis, and Antonio fucked almost every night. The majority of students at their school... Most people in his life.

But out of all of the people that he hated, he hated his  _father_ the very fucking most.

None of this would have happened if it weren't for that bastard. Everything would have been perfect if that son of a bitch hadn't fucked up their lives.

Climbing out of the window of his room was thankfully much easier than jumping out of the window at the police station. Since there was a handy tree next to his bedroom window that he could use to make his way to the ground; he'd used it many many times before, so it took him hardly any time to climb down and take off, even with a hurt ankle.

And now he was currently walking down the street, heading toward the bus stop. He'd take the fourteen down to the 'better' part of town. Best part of town, in his opinion; the sort of place where they'd sell you anything that you wanted, as long as you had the money.

He'd buy himself enough booze to get himself completely and totally sloshed... And then maybe he'd go and find himself a pretty little companion for the night. Or go find someone who wasn't pissed off with him and see if they'd set him up for the night.

Although, he was starting to worry that he wasn't even going to be able to make it all the way to the bus stop, let alone anywhere else. His ankle was throbbing with pain, almost to the point of being unbearable. If he'd messed it up even more climbing down that tree.

Fuck.

He groaned, glancing around. He was almost at the park, Greenview Park. Stupid name for a park. Made him think of one of those idyllic 50's utopian communities—then again, the town's name itself seemed to be trying too hard to give off that image. He should go after the 'Welcome to Pleasantville' sign next... Although he was pretty sure that it had already been vandalised. Pity.

Anyway, he had almost reached the park... He could always sit on one of the benches in there. Take a break, maybe sleep for an hour or two, since he was planning on being out all night.

Ugh, he couldn't wait until he was out of here. On a one-way flight to London. With enough money to set himself up for quite a while. The first few nights, they'd stay at the Ritz; look around for a nice apartment. They could fly to Paris—to appease the frog...

Ah, yes, the frog. Couldn't forget him... Although, if Arthur wanted to be entirely honest with himself—something that definitely didn't happen often—he would have to admit that he was glad that the git was coming with him. Not that he'd ever actually tell him that, but... In all honesty, Francis was probably the closest that he had to a friend around here...

Not that he needed friends! Arthur immediately snorted at his own sappy thoughts and violently kicked a stone out of his path with his good foot.

He couldn't believe that he'd just thought that. Him and Francis.  _Friends_. Sure, when hell froze over. Fuck buddies, sure... Although if Francis actually succeeded in fucking his pig, then he may have to reconsider that, since he sure as hell wasn't going to go down on anything that had been inside one of  _them_.

The park was mostly abandoned, thankfully. There were a few couples holding hands and wandering about, two girls arguing about something or other, a man with his dog... None of them paid him any mind, though, a gesture which he was more than happy to reciprocate as he made his way to a bench and flopped down.

Damn, his ankle was fucking killing him. He tugged it up onto the bench and looked it over, frowning at the sight. It'd swollen to at least twice its normal size. Great... Just great.

Well, he could take a rest for now, and then he'd just suck it up and move on. The last thing that he needed right now was to be slowed down by an injury like this.

He lay back on the bench, using his arm as a pillow, closing his eyes...

And fell asleep within five minutes.


	16. Chapter 16

Leon had to admit that he loved this time of day. (When he'd been allowed a decent amount of sleep the night before, at least.) He loved the early morning hours, when the air felt crisp and clean and the only other people around were those who were out for a morning jog. Most of them plugged into their iPods, ignoring the rest of the world.

He really wished that he could join them right now.

"I'm fine, Chris..." Unfortunately, he was currently attached to his cell phone—well, not exactly his; the cell phone that his grandmother was letting him borrow until he had a chance to replace his—attempting to convince his best friend that he hadn't been mortally wounded in an airplane crash.

Yes, seriously.

"No, you don't need to come out here, Chris. I'm fine. The flight was perfectly normal... Look, if there was a crash, then I'm pretty sure that you would have heard about it on the news..." He paused, frowning as he shifted the phone to his opposite ear, attempting to ignore the glare that he received from a woman jogging by in a too-tight shirt that definitely didn't complement her body shape. "There  _was_  a crash? ...Chris, why would be on a plane that crashed in  _India_?"

Sometimes Leon wondered if he may have inherited something from his grandmother that  _attracted_ crazy people. It would explain so much about his life.

"Look, I'm sorry that I forgot to call you when I arrived. Things have been really crazy and my phone broke and...I've just been having a rough couple of days."

And now the voice that had been panicking in his ear for the last fifteen minutes or so relaxed slightly. Now questioning in a calmer tone. Leon slipped his hand into his jacket pocket as he walked along the path winding through the park. He'd been really happy when he'd discovered this park only about five minutes away from his apartment. Early morning walks or runs were the best way to de-stress; he'd learned  _that_ years ago.

"Well, my grandmother is exactly the same as I remember her... Don't laugh. She sent me on a wild goose chase when I was trying to find my apartme—I said don't laugh!"

...His best friend was a complete jerk. How in the world had they managed to last for sixteen years?

"Anyway, so she sends me on a wild goose chase. Then I go to work the next morning—wasn't supposed to, but she's a demon—I got a new partner..."

And  _now_ that intense panicky voice burst out again. Loud enough that Leon jerked the phone away from his ear in order to keep from going  _deaf_.

He only returned it once he was sure that it was safe to do so. "Not  _that_ kind of partner, idiot. Honestly, why in the world would that be the first thing that you think of?"

Chris had to be the most paranoid 'best-friend-who-basically-acted-like-a-ridiculously-overprotective-father' that had ever existed. Which was why he wasn't going to mention what else had happened that first day of work. Or exactly what his new job entailed...

Because he knew that he would completely overreact and probably get on the next flight out here and he did  _not_ want to deal with that right now.

Especially after looking up the path and seeing the one person that he did  _not_ want to see at this exact moment, curled up on a bench. Fast asleep.

"Ah...I have to go, Chris. Tell your sister that I hope her judo match goes well... Yeah, I'll call you later tonight. Bye." And then he snapped the phone closed, thrusting it inside his pocket with an unnecessarily harsh motion.

Of course he'd run into Arthur Kirkland while he was taking a nice, relaxing early morning walk. Of course.

He  _could_  just ignore him. The kid was asleep after all. And Leon rather doubted that he'd appreciate being woken up, particularly by him.

But it looked like he'd been sleeping there all night; as he walked closer, he could see that the boy's clothing was damp. And he was shivering slightly. He wasn't even wearing a jacket or anything. The kid was probably going to have a pretty miserable cold when he woke up.

...He really  _really_  didn't want to deal with this right now.

But he was going to, because he'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened to this kid... Since the Chief had been oh so kind as to make him actually feel  _responsible_ for the brat.

Damn it. Why did  _he_  have to be the one with the overactive conscience?

Goodbye, early morning tranquillity.

Actually, while he was at it, he might as well say goodbye to  _all_  tranquillity in his life. This town was going to kill him, he could sense it already.

"Arthur?" He walked closer to the bench, leaning slightly over the smaller body. Looking him over, now noticing that his expression was twisted, as if he were in pain...

He frowned and reached down to shake the boy's shoulder. "Arthur? Arthur, wake up."

The boy's eyebrows—rather massive eyebrows, he suddenly noticed—scrunched up slightly at this. And he rolled over, thankfully toward the back of the bench. Otherwise, he would have fallen straight onto the ground. And that definitely wouldn't have improved his mood any.

Leon took a step back as the kid moved, rather sure that he didn't want to be in arm's range when he woke up entirely.

And Arthur shivered more violently now, his body scrunching up as much as it could in the small space. Obviously trying to gain some warmth.

Leon frowned in response, and then sighed as he began to unzip the jacket that he was currently wearing. Damn his conscience to hell. He probably had such an overactive one because his grandmother had none at all. It was the only explanation that made any logical sense.

Meaning that it was official. Everything bad that happened in his life could be linked to his grandmother in one way or another.

He had just managed to pull the jacket off—and he mentally cursed at himself for wearing short sleeves underneath, this was not going to be a fun walk back to the apartment—when the boy's eyes slowly slid open, revealing a pair of pained, exhausted, mossy green eyes. Which immediately settled upon him.

And he had managed to jerk to a seated position in a shockingly fast movement. Fast enough to startle Leon into jerking backwards. Probably a good move.

"Shit!" The boy's eyes jerked around wildly at this, looking over his surroundings as if unsure how he got there. "Shit, where the—why am—" Leon suddenly wondered if maybe he'd gotten drunk last night and had ended up falling asleep on the bench because of that... Then again, he didn't smell like alcohol. And he wasn't acting like he had a hangover or anything like that. He just looked confused...

And now those green eyes now turned to look at him again. And they  _immediately_  narrowed into a glare of pure, unadulterated hatred. As if  _he_ were to blame for everything bad that had ever happened in this kid's life.

"What the fuck are you doing here, pig?"

...Why did he feel responsible for this kid again? He really just needed a few years in a prison cell. That would straighten him up.

"I  _was_ taking a walk through the park on a lovely fall morning... What are  _you_  doing here?"

The boy's eyes narrowed even more at this, in a way that hinted that he hadn't expected that response. Then he snorted and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest in an irritated posture. "None of your business. Now fuck off."

Just a few years... Five at the most.

...Damn his conscience... Damn the Chief too. And his grandmother, of course.

"Look, kid, you shouldn't be sleeping out here at night. You never know what kind of people are going to be wandering around..."

His posture stiffened slightly, and then he hissed back, "I said to fuck off! Leave me the fuck alone, fucking pig!" Then he turned back, his movement rather violent. And he started to stand...

And immediately fell back onto the bench with a startled gasp, his eyes momentarily losing that harsh, hating bite as they were overcome with intense pain.

Leon automatically took a step forward at that, surprised by the sudden reaction. But he immediately froze when the boy actually  _snarled_ at him.

"Get. The. Fuck. Away from me."

"You're hurt." He obeyed, standing a few feet away from the boy. Vaguely worried that he might actually try to  _bite_ him if he moved any closer. "I should look at you. Did you hurt something jumping out of that window?" He would have been surprised if the boy  _didn't_ hurt something. A jump from that height could have  _killed_ him if he landed wrong...

"None of your business. Now go  _away_."

Leon ignored him. Again. He wanted to obey; he would like nothing better than to walk off and leave this brat to wallow in his own hatefulness...

But he couldn't.

So he took another step closer and then knelt down, tugging one of the boy's legs out so he could look at it. He didn't miss the hiss of pain that managed to sneak out at that action, even when the boy attempted to silence it. He also didn't miss the feel of the other leg swiftly kicking him in the arm. He just ignored it as he rolled the boy's pant leg up so he could look at the ankle.

Yeah, definitely injured. It was swollen to almost double the size of the other ankle, and there was dark bruising around the bone. At  _least_  sprained. Maybe broken. He'd have to get an X-ray if they wanted to be sure...

The boy was now desperately attempting to tug his leg free, cursing at him in at least three different languages. Maybe more, languages weren't really his strong suit...

"It looks like you sprained it at the very least... You should go to the hospital to get it checked out."

"I'm not going to any fucking hospital!" The boy almost screeched this last sentence out as he desperately attempted to free himself. "Now let  _go_ of me!"

He should probably call this kid's parents; he could call the station and have them get him the number. He could let them know where their son was; then he could call an ambulance and be done with the whole mess. Arthur's family could deal with him—he would have done his good deed for the day.

But, something was telling him not to do that. Telling him that there was a better way to deal with this.

It was obvious that this kid was severely messed up. And he knew that a lot of the time, the family was at least part of the problem in cases like this. It might be better, both for Arthur and his family, if he stayed away from them for a while.

Leon wasn't liking the path that his own mind was travelling.

"If you don't let go of me..."

"Look..." Leon cut the boy off in his profanity-laden tirade, releasing the ankle as he pulled himself back to his feet. "I don't really care why you were out here all night, okay? As far as I'm concerned, that can be your own business. But you need someone to look at that ankle before you permanently mess it up."

The boy was staring at him with a rather confused expression, which at least gave him a bit more confidence... "What are you talking abou—"

"I'm giving you a choice. I'm either going to call your parents to come and get you so they can take you to the hospital..." He didn't miss the look of disgust that crossed the boy's expression at this. "Or, you can come back with me to my apartment and I'll look at it myself and then we can figure out later if you need to go to the hospital."

It was hard to tell which disgusted look was more disgusted. They were pretty equal.

"I am not coming—"

"I'm not leaving until you decide between those two options. Today's my day off, so I don't have anywhere else that I'm supposed to be." Mostly true. He was supposed o go out looking for a new car, but this was more important. "Which will it be?"

If looks could kill, he'd be dead a million times over. Dead, with his corpse desecrated...

"Fuck Off."

Leon responded by just standing there, crossing his arms over his chest to mimic the teenager's posture. "I can wait, Arthur Kirkland..."

...He had no idea how long he ended up standing there. It felt like forever, although it was probably close to five minutes. Longest five minutes of his life, since the first three and a half were spent listening to the kid cuss him out furiously. And then the last one and half were spent watching the boy's eyes as they flickered with his internal thoughts. Obviously trying to decide which would be worse...

And then Arthur finally cursed again, more decisively this time, as his scowl deepened...

"Fine. I'll go with you, fucking pig."

Leon felt a momentary twinge of victory at this. Not that it was a  _good_ victory, but he'd take what he could get. And at least he hadn't really started unpacking yet... That meant that there were less things for Arthur to destroy.

Although, he'd probably have to find himself a new apartment once this was over...

Joy.


	17. Chapter 17

Arthur couldn't decide who he was most angry at right now. Himself, his family, or this pig who apparently had no idea how to mind his own business.

Why had he let himself fall asleep on that bench? He should have just pushed on...Hell, he should have just called Francis. At least then he wouldn't be stuck sitting on a ratty couch in some bastard's living room, his leg propped up on a footrest, and his ankle swollen to a ridiculous size.

Although, he had to admit that it was nice being inside an almost overly-warm room after spending the entire night outside. He'd been shivering all the way here, even with the bastard's coat thrown over his shoulders—he hadn't wanted to wear the coat, but the git had insisted and Arthur wasn't in the mood to argue about something stupid like that when he was in an agonizing amount of pain... And now he was lying under a thick, patchwork quilt that smelled rather dusty, like it'd been in storage for a while.

"You want anything to drink?" That startled Arthur out of those thoughts. And he turned his head toward the kitchen door, where the pig was standing and watching him.

Damn it. He was really really pissed off right now. He wanted nothing more than to tear the pig's apartment apart—although there really wasn't much in here. A bunch of unpacked boxes neatly stacked at one end of the room, the couch, footrest, a small television... That was it.

"Get me a fucking brandy."

"I have tea, coffee, or hot chocolate." He hadn't even visibly responded to the demand, his voice just as calm as if Arthur hadn't said anything. The teenager's eyes narrowed irritably at him.

He really wanted tea... It'd been much too long since he'd had a cup of his favourite Earl Grey or English Breakfast or Lady Grey or Darjeeling or...

Ugh. Fine. The bastard won. Just because he was still fucking freezing cold, even under the blanket... And his ankle was throbbing and he was pretty sure that he was going to get sick after spending all night outside.

"Tea," he answered curtly, then threw himself back against the surprisingly-comfortable pillows and glared at the blank television screen a few feet away. Bastard hadn't even bothered to give him a remote or anything so he could watch something on the telly. "Black."

"All right. Is English breakfast okay?"

"Whatever, pig."

Bastard didn't react to that either, outside of a moment's hesitation before he turned and walked back into the kitchen, leaving Arthur to just sit there...

Which pissed him off. Really pissed him off... Which meant that he was now severely irritated  _and_ sitting inside some fucking cop's apartment...

He was attempting to sort through his options right now. He knew that he could call Francis, but it probably wouldn't help anything, since the frog would probably find the situation hilarious. And then he'd come over and Arthur would be trapped on a couch, listening and probably watching as Francis attempted to seduce the wanker...

He rather doubted that Francis would actually end up being successful, but he'd definitely try.

Arthur supposed that he  _could_  just stay here and let the bastard fix his ankle. Wasn't like he really had much of a choice outside of attempting to limp his way to Francis's place or crawling back to his parents, which wasn't going to happen in  _this_ fucking lifetime.

"Here." And he was startled out of his thoughts  _again_ by the bloody pig. How the hell did he move around so quietly? He was currently standing in front of him, holding two mugs of what tea, one of which he was holding toward Arthur.

He momentarily considered smacking it out of his hand, but that would be a waste of perfectly good tea... And he could currently smell it now and the scent was heavenly.

"I wasn't sure how strong you liked it, so I hope it's okay." And now he plopped down onto the couch beside him. Arthur immediately scooted as far away as possible.

He ignored the silent insult. Again. Fucking bastard.

"You sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" He sipped at his tea, not even looking at Arthur when he asked the question. "I can try to patch it up, but I'm not a doctor or anything. I don't know if it's sprained or broken or..."

"I'm not going to a fucking hospital." He cut him off, definitely not wanting to talk about this any longer than necessary.

He frowned slightly, but then nodded. "Fine." And then took a rather large gulp of his drink before setting the mug on the coffee table. Arthur glanced down at his own mug and then took a tentative sip. Not bad. Not as good as the tea he made for himself, but a million times better than the tea that Francis had once attempted to make him. Ugh, that had just been terrible...

"It tastes like shit."

The pig looked mildly confused by the remark, glancing over at his own mug. "Oh. Do you want me to try again?"

"No. You'll probably fuck it up even more." Arthur took another sip, feeling slightly better. He was starting to warm up at least.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced." It would be even nicer if the pig would shut up and go away, though. "I'm Leon Kennedy."

"I don't give a fuck."

The irritated sigh that he received in response to  _that_ remark made Arthur feel infinitely better. He was finally getting under his skin. Now he just had to keep it up until he snapped. Because there was something so amusing about watching someone lose it completely. Especially if they were potentially dangerous.

"And you're Arthur Kirkland..."

"Well, it's good to know that they only let geniuses on the force," Arthur interrupted, flashing the man his most sarcastic look before sighing and snuggling farther under the quilt. "Look, why don't you do us all a favour and just go out and get yourself shot, okay?"

Now  _that_ triggered a reaction. Not the one Arthur was expecting, though. Leon didn't move for a long moment, his expression falling as his face paled. And he looked—almost scared. But then it changed to a red colour, and started to grow angrier... And then he stood, mumbling out something that was probably meant to be an excuse, before he walked back into the kitchen.

Leaving Arthur blinking after him, rather surprised by the response.

Well, that was interesting. Very interesting. He should definitely make a mental note of that response, since he may have just discovered something that he could use against the bastard.

Okay, and it made him rather curious too...

But he didn't have much time to think about it, however, as the quiet was suddenly interrupted by the rather jarring sound of a buzzer going off... Arthur jumped slightly, which was  _incredibly_ painful, since he managed to jar his ankle in the process and  _damn_  he needed some painkillers or something. It took him a minute after that to identify the sound. A buzzer. Must be someone asking to be let in.

Probably someone with a fucking fruit basket.

The buzzer noise was followed by rather irritated cursing coming from the kitchen. And then, within a few moments, Leon walked back into the room, refusing to look over at Arthur. Instead, he just made his way to the door and pressed the button on the intercom. "Hello?"

And was answered with complete silence from the other end.

He frowned, obviously confused, and pressed the button again. "Hello? Who is this?"

More silence. Arthur was rather amused by how puzzled he looked. He started to reach toward the button again, but then he was interrupted by a very calm, unemotional "Johnson."

Arthur sat up a little straighter in his seat at that remark. Johnson? Why was  _that_ monster here?

Now, Arthur wasn't scared of  _any_  of the pigs, of course. They were all idiots who just threw around their badges like they actually meant something. But, Johnson was...a little bit different than the others. Because he was creepy and had that unemotional stare and he just gave off this feeling that he wouldn't really care if he killed you "accidentally" or something like that...

"Johnson? Did I—oh, shit!" Leon had been standing there, apparently trying to figure out why Johnson was standing outside of his building. And then he suddenly jerked forward and hurriedly pressed the button again. "I'm so sorry, Johnson! I completely forgot! Come right up. I'll buzz you in right now. I'm so sorry!"

Pig sounded terrified of him, too. See? Even the other pigs thought he was a freak of nature.

And now the idiot was buzzing the door open and was hurrying back over to the kitchen, apparently distracted from whatever had upset him earlier. "I forgot—I told Johnson to come over, since I needed someone to take me out to look at cars."

"So go fuck off with him and leave me the fuck alone." There had to be someone that he could call to pick him up. At the very least, he could  _try_ Francis.

The bastard didn't answer him. He was inside the kitchen now, so he couldn't even see his reaction. Which was a pity, since Arthur could tell that he was at least  _starting_  to annoy him. If he  _was_ going to be stuck here, then he might as well make his life as miserable as possible.

The pig returned in a few moments with another mug of tea, which he carefully set down on the coffee table. And then there was a heavy knock on the door, which Leon hurriedly rose to answer, throwing the door open to reveal Johnson standing there, smoking, expression blank as always.

"I'm so sorry, Johnson. I completely forgot... Come in. I made tea if you'd like some."

The git had a tendency to ramble when he was nervous, apparently. Arthur took a sip from his mug and watched as Johnson glanced around the interior of the room, expression never changing, although his eyes rested for a few moments longer on the pile of boxes in the corner. And then, his eyes finally landed on him, eyebrows raising only the tiniest fraction of an inch upwards to show that he was at all surprised.

Leon seemed to notice the motion and hurriedly began to explain, "His ankle's either sprained or broken. I was taking a walk this morning and found him sleeping on a park bench... He doesn't want to go to the hospital, so I brought him back here to look at it, but I'm not—"

Johnson cut him off by walking across the room to stand beside the couch, staring down at him as he blew a stream of smoke into the air. Arthur leaned a little farther into the couch in order to put space between them. Okay, so maybe he was slightly nervous around Johnson, especially when he couldn't move or do anything besides sit here and take special notice of the fact that this guy was  _huge_. And remember that he'd sort of destroyed his boss's office.

...He was actually starting to wonder if those rumours of him taking on that gang of mafia members could possibly be true.

"Le'mme see your foot." And he didn't have any time to even respond to that, as his ankle was suddenly being held in the asshole's hands and  _holy fuck_ —!

"Don't think it's broken."

"Just a sprain then?" And asshole number two came over and was looking at his ankle too and if one of them didn't get him some fucking painkillers  _soon_ , he was going to fucking kill them both. And why the hell was he  _pressing_ on it?

"Maybe..."

He was going to murder them and then he was going to set this fucking building on fire and—

"I have some ace bandages in one of the boxes. And we could give him some aspirin."

Finally, fucking douchebag...

Leon stood at this, hurrying to the opposite end of the room, where he pulled open a door that he hadn't paid much attention to until now—Arthur caught a glimpse of a bed before he closed it behind him.

So now he knew where the pig slept at night. Good thing to know.

"Let him help."

And Arthur had almost completely forgotten that Johnson was still in here. He had set the injured ankle back against his footrest and now took the full mug of tea that Leon had poured for him, switching his cigarette to the opposite hand as he took a sip. Arthur wrinkled his nose slightly at the thought of what that must  _taste_ like. That was the one thing he hadn't really gotten into. Smoking. He hated the smell and it had made him cough for like ten minutes straight the first time he'd tried.

"I don't want help from a fucking cop," he responded, scowling at the man as he took another sip of his almost lukewarm drink. "You should all just mind your own business."

"He wants to help." He breathed in another lungful of smoke as he glanced toward the room that Leon had entered. "Let him... And don't mess up his apartment..."

If it were anyone else telling him this, Arthur would have immediately taken that as a challenge. And he would have made sure to immediately disobey as soon as both were out of sight.

Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that he didn't really want to mess with Johnson. So he just scowled now and glared across the room at the stack of boxes. "Like I could anyway, fucker."

Ugh, he hated his life so fucking much right now.


	18. Chapter 18

The last thing that Ludwig had expected yesterday afternoon was for his sister to burst into his room and throw herself on top of him like an exuberant,  _soaking wet_  missile.

"I made a new best friend, Luddy! And he's awesome, even if his car doesn't have a gun in the glove compartment!"

He had also definitely not expected  _that_  sudden exclamation.

Ludwig had realized early on that his sister was completely insane; he'd even grown rather used to her random outbursts. However, over the last few months, Gillian had been acting less and less like her usual self. She was still loud and obnoxious when she was at school and out with others, but when she came home, she'd often go into long stretches where she would sit on her bed and stare out the window, completely quiet and sad...

It had been worrying Ludwig. Sure, his sister's boisterousness could sometimes be incredibly annoying. But she just wasn't  _Gill_ if she wasn't screaming about how awesome she was and throwing water balloons at Roderich and covering his mirror with chick stickers and generally making a nuisance of herself.

So, it was rather surprising when Gillian had suddenly pulled a complete one-eighty on him. As the Gillian that had pinned him to the bed yesterday had definitely been his usual sister... Excited, completely incomprehensible, and insanely happy...

Ludwig had been completely startled by the sudden attack; enough that he didn't automatically attempt to push her off. Instead, he just stared up into those excited red eyes... "Gun?"

"He's a cop!"

She was still half-laying on top of him; Ludwig now noticed that and sat up, pushing her to the side and moving the homework that she'd managed to crumple so it was out of range of her excited arms. "A cop?" He felt like he was just repeating her words back at her.

"Mhm!" She nodded. Silvery, soaked, and tangled curls bounced around her shoulders from the force of the movement. Ludwig sighed, moving over so he could pull the drawer of his nightstand open and extract a comb. "His name's Leon! And he's a cop! And he let me sit in his car 'cause it was all wet outside!"

"You still got wet, though." Ludwig had handed the comb to her, hoping that she'd actually use it. He couldn't understand how Gill could stand having her hair be all out of order and messy... Especially when she had so  _much_ of it...

"That's 'cause I wanted to see you and tell you about my new best friend!" And then, until Mutti called them down for dinner, Ludwig had listened as Gill rambled on about all of the awesome adventures she and her new friend were going to have.

...It had actually been a huge relief. Because Gillian wasn't in her room, staring out of the window with a sad expression on her face. Instead, she was acting like his sister. Smiling and giggling and planning pranks.

And then, this morning, Ludwig had been sitting at the table, carefully cutting his sausages into bite-size pieces. Vati had been sitting across from him, reading the newspaper and occasionally taking sips from his coffee mug; Mutti had been standing by the stove, filling her own plate with breakfast. And then Gillian ran into the room and threw her arms around their mother in a  _huge_ , excitedhug. Mutti had almost dropped the plate out of surprise.

"Guten Morgen, Mutti!"

"Guten Morgen, Gilly." She'd laughed, hugging her back. "You're in a good mood. Is something special happening today?"

"Ja!" Gillian had giggled and then darted over to the table, hugging Vati around the neck too. "I'm gonna make a new best friend today!"

"Oh, that's wonderful, Gillian!" And now Mutti hugged her back. Ludwig felt slightly uncomfortable... He'd never been an exceptionally touchy-feely person. Unlike Gill and Mutti. So he was semi-worried that he was suddenly going to be dragged into this hugging situation...

Thankfully, he'd been safe, as Gillian had instead opted to grab a plate, fill it with food, and then spend the rest of the meal talking with Mutti about said 'new best friend'. Ludwig had tuned it out, since he'd already heard the speech last night.

He felt a little bad for whomever this guy was—from what Gill had said, it sounded like  _she_  was the one who had decided that they were going to be new best friends. Poor man probably had no idea what he was soon going to be dealing with...

If he was lucky, Gill might find someone else to bother.

Ludwig rather doubted that that would happen, but it was always possible, he supposed.

Anyway, so that had been this morning. And now they were sitting at their usual lunch table, which consisted of himself, Gillian, Feliciana, and Kiku. And Gillian was still blabbering on.

"You should totally meet him! We can all go to the police station later!" She was leaning over the table, one hand settled palm down on the table in an expressive gesture, the other shovelling handfuls of grapes into her mouth.

"Ve~ I want to meet Gilly's new friend!" Ludwig sighed at that remark. Of course Feliciana would want to go along with Gillian's ridiculous plan. Honestly, bothering the poor guy at work?

Which, now that he thought about it... That must mean that he was quite a bit older than them. If he were a police officer. Gillian hadn't mentioned how old the guy was when she'd been rambling about him.

"It might be interesting to meet someone new..." And now Kiku spoke up. He had been picking through his bento throughout the conversation, and now glanced over the others with a passive expression. "Although, should we really bother him at work, Gilli-chan?"

"He won't mind! I can totally tell that he's one of the awesome people! Besides, Big Mike is friends with the Chief, so she can totally get us in!"

Ludwig officially felt sorry for this poor man. If 'Big Mike' was getting involved. That woman was even more insane than Gillian herself, and that was saying something.

Although, he really didn't want to say anything that might put a damper on Gill's mood. It'd been so long since he'd seen her like this, after all... Not since Antonio and Francis had stopped hanging out with her.

Which reminded him... He hadn't seen either of them, or Arthur, at all today. He'd heard that something had happened yesterday. Apparently Arthur had gotten arrested or something. Or maybe all three of them? He wasn't sure. He also hadn't seen Lovina today, which was a little odd.

"Ve~ will you come with us, Ludwig?" He was interrupted from his thoughts by a slight tug on his sleeve. And when he glanced down, Feliciana was staring up at him with big, amber-coloured eyes... And a slight, probably unintentional pout and...

"J—ja..." What exactly was he agreeing to? He'd sort of forgotten what they were talking about.

"Awesome! We can go to Big Mike's place after school and she can talk to the police chief and you can meet him!"

Ah, yes. That was what they had been talking about.

"Feli..." Feliciana was still staring at him with interest, one of her hands resting on his knee. Ludwig could feel his face begin to heat up and his heart fluttered nervously in his chest. He hoped that he wasn't starting to get sick... Maybe he should go to the nurse later and ask her about it. "Ah, where's your sister?"

And now Feliciana's expression fell, and she immediately looked rather miserable. He could have kicked himself for that... He hated making Feli upset.

"Ve~ she told me that she didn't want lunch. But I know that she has to be hungry, because she didn't eat breakfast and she hardly ate anything last night..." And now her eyes were starting to tear up and she began sniffling as she stared at her Tupperware bowl of pasta. "I even made her pasta for lunch..."

He really had no idea how to respond, which was why he was incredibly relieved when Gillian stood up and made her way to the empty seat beside the crying girl. "Fels~" She pulled Feliciana's head against her chest and began to run her fingers through her hair in a repetitive motion. "It's okay. It's okay."

"I don't want sorella to get sick! I want sorella to be happy again!"

Kiku was staring down at his bento now, looking rather uncomfortable and upset by the whole situation. Ludwig sighed as he glanced around the cafeteria. He really just wished that things would go back to the way they used to be...

"I'll go look for her," he remarked, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. Not that he really had any idea where he should start looking, but he hated it when Feli cried. And—well—the last thing that he wanted was for her sister to get herself sick or something.

"R—really?" Feli now lifted her head and looked back at him. Her eyes red and tear tracks staining her cheeks...

"J—ja..." He picked up a packet of crackers that he hadn't eaten yet and slipped it into his pocket. He could at least attempt to get some food into her.

"Grazie, Ludwig!" And he was suddenly being hugged with every ounce of strength in Feli's arms. Gillian sent him a smirk over the other girl's shoulder.

"Ah, ja..." He hurriedly extricated himself from the girl's grip, turning and hurrying out of the cafeteria...

And now he was standing in the hallway. Now, where would Lovina be?

The answer to that question came much faster than he'd expected, as he could suddenly hear girls' voices coming from down one of the hallways.

"Aw, what, you gonna start crying now?"

"Not so high and mighty now, are ya? Poor  _poor_ Lovina Vargas. Stupid, pathetic, no talent,  _and_ uglier than her sister. Why don't you just do us all a favour and throw yourself off the roof!"

"She doesn't have the guts!"

"Shut up!" Ludwig could barely hear Lovina's voice, as it was choked up as if she were attempting to hold back tears. It still held that usual hint of defiance, though—not completely broken, yet.

He was barely aware of his own movement toward the voices. His hands were clenching into fists; he couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to punch someone this badly.

Ludwig really hated these girls. They had always disliked Lovina—a lot of girls at their school didn't like her all that much, since she was...well, Lovi. Foul-mouthed, defiant, not willing to give in as easily as most of the other girls Lovi... However, most of them hadn't dared to do anything to her previously, since Antonio was  _known_ for being protective of the younger girl. Anyone who made her cry was going to face the wrath of a very very angry Spaniard.

But then,  _something_ had changed. He'd stopped spending time with her, stopped hanging around her... It had taken a few months, but after a while, these girls had started crawling out from under their rocks. They'd started taunting her, mocking her, making it their personal mission to make Lovina's life miserable.

Ludwig now turned the corner, the girls now visible. Lovina was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall. She was shivering violently, even though she was wrapped up in a heavy jacket; three other girls were standing in front of her, staring down at her with twisted, gargoyle-like expressions.

"Lovina!" And he called out for her immediately, startling the other girls, who turned with surprised expressions. Which instantly paled, as they saw the utter fury etched across his face. They didn't even bother to say anything; instead, they just turned and darted away.

Cowards.

For a moment, Lovina stared in the direction they had headed. Then she turned and stared up at him with a rather surprised expression. And then, in a movement more characteristic of her usual self, hurriedly pouted and turned away. "W—what do  _you_  want, potato bastard? C—come to make fun of me too?"

But that wasn't Lovi's voice. That wasn't the Lovina that he knew... She didn't sound near as biting as she usually sounded.

It probably said something about their relationship that it worried Ludwig when Lovina  _wasn't_ yelling at him and insulting him.

"No."

He had no idea how to comfort her. What was he supposed to say? Things are gonna be okay? He honestly had no idea if things were going to get any better...

But, he could at least attempt. "Feli...wanted me to bring you this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the slightly smashed package of crackers. "She's worried about you."

"I'm fine." And Lovina huddled deeper into her jacket, ignoring the offering. "Just—leave me alone. I just want to think."

"Feliciana loves you." He repeated, frowning down at the filthy floor... This was for Feli—and Lovi—though. So he ignored the dirt and allowed himself to drop down onto the floor beside her, slightly surprised when she didn't scoot away immediately. "She's worried."

Lovina didn't immediately answer. Instead, she just sat there, staring down at her lap with an unreadable expression. And then, just as Ludwig was starting to feel like he should say  _something_ , he watched as her shoulders began to shake. And then she seemed to curl up on herself, burying her face against her knees in an attempt to muffle the sobs that began to arise...

...Ludwig immediately felt a wave of panic wash over him. And he  _really_  wished that someone else had come. He had no idea how to deal with a crying girl. Especially a crying girl who proclaimed to hate him every time they laid eyes on each other...

What was he supposed to do? Images of Gillian comforting Feli immediately rose to mind. Should he try that? Would she attempt to kill him?

He just stared at her for a few seconds more. She almost sounded like she was choking...

And now he sighed and then scooted closer, slowly and awkwardly slid an arm around her shoulders, his cheeks flushing beet red as he gave her a sort-of hug...

Which surprised her so much that she stopped crying almost immediately, lifting her head to stare at him with teary eyes that immediately reminded him of Feliciana. "P—potato bastard?"

"Um..." Ludwig was definitely sure that he should go to the nurse. His face felt like it was about to burn off. "Um...I hope that you feel better... And...um..." Ludwig was not good at comforting. He had never been good at comforting. He felt like his face was about to explode—he couldn't even look at her. "And it would make everyone happy if you were happy again. And..."

And he was completely startled, as her body started to shake again. Sending a wave of panic through his mind. Had he just made things worse?

But then he realized that she wasn't crying...

No, she was...laughing.

Or, kind of half-laughing, half-choking. As if her body weren't entirely sure what to do right now.

"W—wow, y—you suck at this, potato bastard."

"I—" He hurriedly stood up, deciding that he was embarrassed enough without also adding in the discomfort of sitting on the floor. Lovina just stared up at him, lips twitched up into a slight smile, which laid in sharp contrast to the tears that were still running down her cheeks.

"All right, I'll come eat with you guys..."

"Um..." He nervously rubbed at the front of his slacks, glancing toward the hallway that led to the nurse's office.

"Just never  _ever_ do that again." She began to walk toward the cafeteria, but then turned to flash him one of her usual glares. "And I'm not doing this for you. I'm just doing it to make Feli happy, stupid potato bastard."

Well, at least she was acting a little more like her usual self.


	19. Chapter 19

Where the hell was Arthur?

Francis was really starting to get annoyed with that idiot. After all, only a complete moron would decide to go out and get himself completely wasted when he was injured. And when he knew that there were at least a few thugs out there who would greatly enjoy smashing a glass bottle into his face.

Seriously, if Arthur had gone and gotten himself seriously hurt. Or killed...

He had to keep from panicking. He knew Arthur. He knew that Arthur wasn't the most conscientious person in the world. He had probably found some girl to stay with last night. And was probably still asleep, knowing him. Sleeping off a hangover.

He sighed and slid his hands into his jacket pockets, glancing around his surroundings. He wasn't entirely sure where he was... He'd just randomly felt like 'borrowing' one of the vehicles and driving out here. Somewhere poor, looked like... and vaguely familiar. Like he'd been here before, a long time ago.

Anyway, he'd parked the car on the side of the road awhile back. And just started walking...

He'd started going through his dad's office last night, after getting off the phone with Arthur. Rummaging through drawers and boxes; trying to find the combination for the safe. He hadn't gotten very far in his search.

Because he couldn't stand being in there. He hated that room; he hated that entire wing of the mansion. His parents' rooms and studies; all dusty and practically empty of personal articles. Even the servants tended to avoid that area. As if trying to not draw attention to the complete emptiness that filled those rooms.

His parents.

Where were they now? They'd come back last Christmas and told him about some new project. Down somewhere in India, he seemed to remember. He hadn't paid too much attention to what they had said. Money, work, we have to leave in a few days... We're sorry. We'll be back for your birthday.

They hadn't come back for his birthday.

No, instead they'd sent him a  _car_ as a present. And a letter that he'd locked away—unread—with the rest of the unopened letters that they'd sent him throughout the years. He wasn't even old enough to drive and they'd sent him a  _car_... They didn't even care enough to remember how old he was...

...And why the hell was he  _thinking_  about them? As far as he was concerned, his parents didn't exist. They wouldn't care when he ran off with Arthur. Actually, they'd probably be relieved. They wouldn't have to pretend that they cared about him anymore, after all. The only thing that might upset them is the fact that he was going to be making off with some of their hard-earned cash. Although it really wasn't a lot of money in the grand scheme of things, so they might not even notice.

And he wasn't going to think about them anymore. They didn't matter. Soon, he and Arthur would be in London. Alone. Not having to worry about parents, family, anything ever again.

"What do you think, Johnson? That's not too bad of a price..."

...But before that...

Francis paused for a moment, startled by the familiar voice that had broken through his thoughts.

Although, now that he looked around, he suddenly realized why this place looked familiar. He was near Erik's garage... The chauffeur used to take him here when he was younger. He and the mechanic—Francis wasn't sure if his name was really Erik or not; he assumed so, since it made things easier—were good friends. Whenever he had to get one of the vehicles looked at, he'd come here... And usually he'd let Francis ride along. Erik would show him around the garage, let him look at the cars that he was fixing up. Sometimes he'd let him do little jobs like polish a mirror or tighten some screws.

He hadn't been here in years, though... Not since that chauffeur had quit due to health problems when he was five or so. He'd almost completely forgotten about him, actually. Although, apparently his hands hadn't, since they'd decided to drive him here... Damn it, all of this packing and planning was making him nostalgic or something.

However, he supposed he could forgive himself. Since it sounded like he had  _incredible_ timing when it came to taking unconscious walks down memory lane.

Now he just had to figure out how to catch the cute cop with the nice ass without Johnson noticing... Since he didn't really want a repeat of what happened last time. Sure, it'd been totally worth it, but he didn't want to permanently mar his face.

He could see the shop now, along with what he assumed was Johnson's car, a pretty average-looking dark blue one. He crept along, careful to keep himself close to the woods that lined the road... And there they were.

The two cops—must be off-duty, since they weren't in uniform—were standing a few yards away, beside some gold-coloured mess of a car that looked like it should have been junked at least a decade ago. Leon standing on the far side of the vehicle, peering inside the driver's window; Johnson standing on the side closer to Francis, smoking as he watched the other. Neither of them was looking in his direction, which gave Francis the perfect chance to creep closer.

"It'd need repairs, right?" And now Leon stepped back around, one hand resting against the passenger's mirror as he slid the other into his back pocket... He had nice taste in jeans, Francis couldn't help but notice.  _Very_  nice. "But, that'd still be cheaper than any of the others we looked at... It's not exactly what I'd want, but..."

Johnson didn't visibly respond, although Leon didn't seem surprised. Instead, he glanced back at the car, frowning slightly as he looked it over. "I just don't really have money for anything better, right now. Grandmother offered to pay for it, but..."

Johnson still just continued smoking. Gaze fixed on the younger male; Francis vaguely wondered how old he was, anyway. Not that he cared. He'd slept with plenty of people who could end up in serious legal trouble if anyone found out... Twenty or twenty-one, maybe? Couldn't be any older than that.

Anyway, like he said. Totally didn't matter. What did matter was that Johnson was standing between them, acting like a very effective shield. He sighed. Really... He just needed him to leave for like—five minutes.

"We should probably go find the owner... Do you want to wait here or...?"

"I'll find him." Johnson grunted the response out before dropping his cigarette onto the ground and grinding it under his heel, already in the process of lighting another within a matter of moments.

And the universe was apparently loving on Francis today.

As the cock block was now walking away, leaving Francis with a clear shot toward the luscious piece of ass... Who now happened to be bending over, peering in the passenger's window...

Well, now, that was practically an invitation.

Which was why Francis felt entirely justified when he crossed the empty space between them and took a rather firm grip of said invitation. "Bonjour, mon cher. What a surprise to run into you here."

What he hadn't expected was Leon's reaction... An entirely over-the-top reaction, if you asked him.

As he suddenly found himself face to face with the barrel of a very serious-looking handgun.

"Damn it." Leon had jumped a rather impressive distance when Francis had grabbed him, but had also managed to grab his gun in the same motion. Francis would have been incredibly impressed if he weren't currently fearing for his life. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?"

"Non. Non. Just taking a walk, mon ami." He hurriedly held his hands up, flashing him his most innocent smile. And took a quick step backwards.

Note to self... Cops carry weapons. Startling them isn't the best method of getting their attention.

And Leon hadn't lowered his weapon yet, either. Instead, he was glaring at him with an expression that plainly read that he was incredibly exasperated with him.

"What do you want?"

Francis wasn't entirely sure if he should answer that question truthfully. "I just heard you talking about buying that..." He hesitated, unsure what he should call the thing that they were looking at. "...I suppose it's a car."

"Yes, it's a car." And Leon had finally allowed the hand holding the gun to return to his side. And was relaxing slightly. Which was always a good sign. Now, all Francis had to do was get him to relax enough that he would agree to climb into the backseat of this 'car' with him...

"Barely." Francis snorted and then took a step closer, ignoring the suspicious look that he received in response. Instead, he glared at the paint that was flaking off the side of the vehicle. And the mirror was all rusted, too; it'd probably come off after a few months of driving.

Basically, it was a piece of trash. It was kind of sad, actually. Here he had a brand new car that he wasn't even legally allowed to drive... That was a stupid law by the way, since he knew how to drive probably better than most sixteen-year-olds. Sometimes it was really nice to have money that you could use to bribe certain servants to teach you how to do things like drive... And buy alcohol for you. And do other less-than-legal things.

Anyway, here he was with a brand new car that he wasn't supposed to be driving and this poor, rather cute cop had to drive around in a hunk of scrap like this.

...Which suddenly gave him an idea.

"You know, cher~" Leon immediately flashed him a suspicious look when Francis slipped back into his flirting tone-of-voice. So sad. He should really learn that he should trust people. "If you really want a car, you can always take one of mine."

And Leon's expression immediately froze into one of shock. Eyes widening in confusion...

Hey, he'd told Arthur that he was going to be doing 'community service' during these next few weeks. Besides, it was fun to startle this cop...

Francis laughed, stepping forward as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. Shaking them in front of Leon's face to recapture his attention. And then slipped them down into the other male's jeans pocket with a more seductive motion than really necessary. Because he could. "You're lucky that I'm so generous, non?"

"Wha—what? You can't..."

"Ah, don't worry. You can repay me later, oui?" He now reached forward, grabbing Leon's hand with one of his, while reaching into his other pocket with the other. Pulling out a pen that he uncapped with his teeth.

And then carefully wrote a series of numbers onto the back of his hand. "There's my number. Feel free to call whenever you want to repay me." He winked as Leon finally seemed to realize what he'd done and jerked his hand away, staring at the numbers in horror. "Just make sure that you call in the next few weeks. After that, I'll be out of the country."

...And he probably shouldn't have said that. As Leon's attention jerked back towards him at those words. "Wha—what? What do you mean?"

Ah, a bit too much information... Oh well, not that it really mattered.

He just smirked, taking a few more steps away. Blowing a kiss before quickly turning. "Call me, cher~"

"Wa—wait a minute!"

But he hurriedly ran off, laughing to himself in amusement at the irritation that managed to break through the other's voice. This was fun~

Although now he was going to have to call one of the servants to come get him. And explain what had happened to his car.

...Still worth it.


	20. Chapter 20

Ludwig had always vaguely wondered why Big Mike used that name. It was a rather odd name for a grown-up woman to use, after all, especially since he wasn't even sure of what her real name  _was_  because of it. Since  _everyone_ either called her Mike or Big Mike.

The woman had seemed thrilled to find their group standing on her doorstep earlier; she'd invited them in, taken their coats, told them to make themselves at home. She had just put some biscuits in the oven and they should be ready soon.

So now he, Kiku, Lovina, and Feliciana were sitting on couches in the living room, while Gillian and Big Mike talked in the kitchen. It was...actually kind of nice. Kiku was quietly reading one of his mangas, Lovina was flipping through a magazine that she'd found on the coffee table—there was a picture of a flashy, bright red car on the cover. And Feliciana was sitting beside him, pencil skittering over a page in her sketchpad.

Nice, quiet... Calm...

"And if you talk to the police chief, then we can get in and everybody can meet him! And then we can go and fight bad guys!"

Or it had been calm until Gillian bounded back into the room, Big Mike following with a tray of biscuits, which she set down on the coffee table in front of him. Sending him a warm smile.

"That's very nice that you made a new friend, Gilly. What did you say his name was, again?"

"Leon!" Gillian bounced excitedly in place for a few seconds before reaching forward and grabbing one of the biscuits... And then realized that it was still extremely hot and dropped it back onto the pile. "Ow!"

"You just saw me take them out of the oven, chickie. You know that they're going to be hot," Big Mike laughed.

Ludwig proceeded to watch her, interested as he watched her expressions. The woman continued to smile genially, as she set a pile of napkins beside the tray. Kiku lay his book down for a moment and moved to take one of the napkins, setting a biscuit on top. Big Mike nodded in response, then set a biscuit on top of another napkin and took it over to Lovina, who accepted it with some reluctance.

Her expression was a strange mixture; she was smiling, obviously pleased with her guests. But there was also the hint of a smirk under the smile, like she had some secret that she was hiding from them. But also...a hint of something that almost seemed like worry.

"Leon. That's a nice name," she continued, taking a biscuit for herself and lowering herself onto a rocking chair on the opposite side of the room. "My son was a police officer. One of the best in his division."

"Scott..." Gillian dropped onto the couch between Ludwig and Feliciana, reaching forward again to grab a biscuit. This time with a napkin.

And she seemed more subdued all of a sudden, staring at the biscuit as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. It surprised Ludwig, since she'd been so excited just a moment ago.

Feliciana hadn't really seemed to notice the sudden tension, as she leaned forward and stared at Big Mike with interest. "Ve~ I didn't know you had a son, Big Mike. Where does he live? Can we meet him?"

And she'd definitely said something that she wasn't supposed to. As Big Mike didn't immediately answer and Gillian frowned and flashed Feli a rather exasperated look...

"Unfortunately not, Feli. He passed away a long time ago."

...She said that so matter-of-factly. For a minute, Ludwig was sure that he must have heard her wrong. She just continued to sit there, staring ahead with a calm, subdued expression.

And Feli looked utterly horrified. "Ve~ I'm sorry! I didn't—I didn't mean to—"

"It's all right, Feli." And she sounded completely fine. A little hint of sadness behind her voice, but it was kept firmly in check. "Scotty was killed fourteen years ago while in the line of duty. He was the best son I could have asked for and I'm happy that I had him as long as I did..."

Ludwig had no idea what to say. Or if he was supposed to say anything.

Which meant that there was now a long moment of awkward silence. Even Lovi looked rather shocked and disturbed by this sudden information. And she still hadn't touched her food, Ludwig noticed with a twinge of discomfort.

...He was almost happy when Gillian suddenly jumped up out of her seat, hands on her hips as she glared toward the window with a defiant expression and shouted out, "But nothing like that is ever gonna happen to  _my_ Leon! Because I'll make sure that he's safe!"

... _My_  Leon?

She'd also decided to pose in something that sort of looked like a superhero 'about-to-save-the-world' stance. Which drew an immediate smile from Big Mike.

"Are you, now?"

"Uh huh!" She dropped back into her seat, grabbing Feliciana around the middle and tugging her close in a tight hug. "I've already told him that he needs to put a gun in his glove compartment! So if any bad guys or zombies attack, he'll be able to shoot them all down!"

Zombies?

"And I can totally give awesome advice! Like an awesome sidekick! I've watched lots and lots and lots of movies with cops in them, after all!"

Ludwig was starting to fear for this poor guy's life.

"Ve~ you're going to be a sidekick, Gilly?" Feliciana seemed a little bit happier at least. She giggled as Gill proceeded to squeeze her even tighter.

"An  _awesome_ sidekick!"

"But..." Thank God, Kiku was going to cut in. At least he was more reasonable than Gillian or Feliciana. "I'm not sure if movies are the best places to get information about real officers, Gilli-chan."

Yes, listen to him, Gill.

"I have some mangas and video games, though. They're probably more accurate..."

Never mind.

"Well, obviously movies aren't going to tell you  _everything_. I mean, if movies showed you everything about cops, then he would have had a big box of donuts in his car! But anyway, I learned all about how to tell bad guys from non-bad guys! Like, if a girl shows up who's really  _really_ pretty and wearing a long, slinky red dress, then she's totally a bad guy! And the good guy is gonna fall in love with her and then get betrayed! But then she'll turn good at the end, but still break his heart because she'll either leave him or die. Which is totally unawesome..."

...Ludwig was starting to wonder if it might be a good idea to steal all of Gill's old film noir movies and spy movies and horror movies. And any other movies that could give ideas about how the real world worked.

He might have to just destroy all movies in the universe to do that.

And now Big Mike started laughing, grinning as she stood and walked back into the kitchen. "Well, it sounds like that cop is going to be lucky to have a sidekick like you around. I'll talk to the Chief tonight and you can go and see...Leon, was it?...tomorrow."

"Awesome!" Gillian jumped up and hurried to throw her arms around the older woman. "Thanks, Big Mike! You're super awesome!"

She laughed and hugged her back. "Think nothing of it, chickie. He actually should be coming over any minute now anyway."

Ludwig hesitated for a moment, confused by that statement, before asking. "Are you having dinner together or something?" He knew that Big Mike and the Chief were friendly, but he wasn't aware that they spent time together outside of a sort of 'if they run into each other on the street, they say hello' relationship.

"Oh, no. Unless he would like to stay for dinner. I just expect that the mayor probably has found his gift by now."

There was a moment of silence at that. Ludwig had the feeling that he didn't want to know what she meant by that. But curiousity won out. "Gift?"

She laughed, waving the question away with a hand. "I left some lobsters in his bathtub. Nothing big. Now, you should probably get going before he shows up. Take the biscuits with you. I have plenty more. And you..." She turned toward Lovi, who jerked slightly in surprise at the sudden attention. She still hadn't touched the biscuit that she'd been given. "You are going to eat at least  _five_  of those biscuits, hear me? You're all skin and bones right now. And you're much too pretty to hurt your body like that."

For a moment, Lovi just sat there. Looking rather surprised, then she opened her mouth, looking like she was about to argue. But then...she hesitated. And then just nodded, flushing as she stared at her lap. "Fine."

"Good!" And Big Mike smiled again and then began to wave her hand toward the door, shooing them out. Ludwig was barely aware of his own movement, following her order. As only one word was running through his mind.

And it escaped from his lips when he found himself with the others. Standing on a front porch...

" _Lobsters?_ "


	21. Chapter 21

At least the pig had a decent collection of reading material. If Arthur was going to be stuck on the bastard's couch until his leg healed, then he'd  _better_ have something to entertain himself.

Bastard almost completely forgot to leave him something, too. He'd started walking towards the door, turned around last minute to glance at him, and then seemed to finally remember that Arthur couldn't fucking  _move_ or do  _anything_. So he'd walked over to the pile of boxes, grabbed one, and set it beside the couch. "You can read any of these if you want." And then grabbed the remote off the top of the telly and set it on top of the box. "Or watch TV. Sorry I don't really have anything else."

Arthur was about to cuss the bastard out for that, but then he caught the warning look from Johnson. And shut his mouth, scowled, and then turned his head away in a dismissive gesture.

The pigs had left after that, Leon saying something about how he wouldn't be gone long. Leaving Arthur alone...

It hadn't taken long before he gave in and opened the box. Just because he was bored and not because he was actually curious about what books the pig owned.

It was filled with an assortment of well-worn paperbacks. Looked second-hand... A pretty nice assortment, actually. Dickens, Chandler, Doyle, Fleming, Shakespeare, among many others. And then a few magazines that were filled with pictures of guns, some with notes made next to them in neat, clear handwriting.

He was a little surprised when he glanced up, about halfway through  _Hamlet_ , to see that almost three hours had passed since he'd started reading...

So much for not being gone long.

Although he could now hear footsteps outside, the sound had probably been what had initially broken him from his reading. And then the sound of a key turning in the lock.

And then the pig came inside, arms loaded with plastic grocery bags. He immediately walked over to the coffee table, setting the bags on top. "Sorry I was gone for so long... I just had to get food and everything. And a new cell phone. And I got some crutches for you; I thought it might help, since I doubt that you want to be stuck on that couch the entire time you're here..."

He wasn't really paying all that much attention to Arthur; instead, he dug through the bags and set various food items on top of the table. Cans of soup, lunch meat, bread, a couple boxes of tea, various vegetables and fruits, milk... All sorts of things.

And then he glanced up after a moment, looking slightly nervous. "If you want something specific, I could go get it after work tomorrow. I wasn't sure what you like and I didn't think to ask before I left—I've never been a picky eater, so..."

And he was rambling again. He really needed to get rid of that habit at some point. It was kind of annoying.

But then, something caught Arthur's eye. A mark on the back of the pig's hand. Numbers, it looked like? They were rather faint, like he had attempted to rub them off or something like that. But they were definitely still noticeable.

Huh. That was interesting. Arthur's attention was now fixated on that mark. He just needed to hold still long enough for him to read the numbers.

Which, unfortunately, was easier said than done. Since he also seemed to move around a lot more when he was rambling. "I should call the school for you and tell them that you're going to be out for a few days... Maybe somebody can bring your homework? Or I could go pick it up, I guess. And then, I'll call your parents. I'll need their number, though."

Weirdly enough, he was now sorting the items out on the table in movements that seemed almost entirely unconscious. Why in the world was he even sorting them out here anyway? Wasn't that what the kitchen was for? Unless he was doing it out here so he could watch Arthur for some reason?

"Why the fuck would I want you to call them?" His hand movements had at least slowed enough so he could see that the first three numbers were  _483_.

And then his movements finally stopped completely, as he sighed. Almost sounding irritated. "Look, they need to know that you're safe. They're probably worried about you..."

"So?"  _483...27_ Was that an  _8_ or a  _3_? It looked more like an 8. And then...

...Oh...

Ugh. Why the  _fuck_ was Francis's number on the pig's hand?

...Looked like Francis had been successful in his goal. It would explain why the hell the pig had been gone for so long.

"They're your parents." He was still talking, now packing one of the piles of cans back into one of the bags. "They have the right to know your whereabouts and what happened to you. I don't want them to think that you're dead or injured or anything when you're sitting in my living room, completely fine. I'll make sure that they understand that you'll be better off here, if that makes you feel any better."

Arthur really really disliked this bloody git. He was a fucking goody-goody. Well, besides the fact that he was apparently fucking Francis. But, then again, pretty much everybody fucked Francis at one time or another. As soon as Francis set his sight on someone, it was almost a guarantee that they'd end up between the sheets at some point or another.

And now Leon picked up the bag of cans, starting to walk back to the kitchen...

"So, did he give you a handjob or blowjob?"

And proceeded to drop the rather heavy bag with a very satisfying crash.

Spinning around in the same motion, looking completely confused and shocked. "Wha—what?" Before his gaze flickered down to his hand and then he paled a little bit. "Oh, no. No way... That's not."

"I don't give a fuck if you did." Arthur rather enjoyed the expressions of horror that were crossing over the older male's face. He leaned his head back against the couch's armrest, watching him through narrowed eyelids. "Although, if you end up coming back here and fucking where I can hear you, then I'll fucking kill both of you. That's the last thing that I want to listen to when I'm trying to sleep."

Leon's cheeks were turning an interesting shade of red. And he was just standing there, looking completely horrified. Then he shuddered. "No. Absolutely not. I ran into him while I was looking for a car and he just... He startled me and then wrote his number on my hand for some reason. That's all. There is no way that I would—"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well, then you should just call him and get it over with. Francis isn't going to let up on you until you agree to sleep with him. He loves guys who play hard to get; he says that it's more entertaining if the person is a difficult catch. And he says that they're usually much better in bed."

He'd never understood why Francis enjoyed making things more difficult for himself like that. If Arthur was going to screw around with some random chick—and he preferred chicks; he only slept with guys when he was drunk off his arse—then he'd pick the easiest one he could find. Francis, on the other hand, seemed to love attempting to pick up older men. He'd pick one out of the crowd and then concentrate all of his attention on pursuing him until he inevitably gave in...

Of course, he would still sleep around with various girls and guys their own age, but Arthur felt like that was more for appearance's sake than out of any real desire for them.

And Leon still looked utterly horrified by his statement. Which probably meant that he was telling the truth and he and Francis  _hadn't_ done anything together.

He yawned, picking up his book again and returning to where he'd left off. "Don't ask me what the fuck he sees in  _you_. Francis has always had weird taste..."

"An—anyway!" And now he seemed to be attempting to change the subject, crouching down to pick up the cans that had spilled onto the floor. "Anyway, I should call your parents..."

"284-3455. That's Maxen's cell. If you're going to talk to one of those bastards, then it might as well be him."

"Your brother?"

" _Step_ -brother." That bastard's kids. "He's the only one that isn't a complete wanker." Since he actually left him alone for the most part.

Arthur was always getting into fights with the other two. Duncan, because the two of them both had rather nasty tempers and would resort to violence in the blink of an eye. And Seamus, because the bastard was always asking where he'd been, what he'd been doing... It was none of his business. They weren't his real brothers; they'djust waltzed right into his home like they belonged there.

"Okay." And Leon was still standing in the doorway, watching him with a curious expression. Arthur scowled back in response, but he didn't move. "Do you want me to make you lunch or anything? I'm sure you must be hungry..."

And his stomach of course chose to growl at those words. Damn it. An amused smirk crossed over the pig's lips at the sound, although he didn't comment.

"Nothing big. Maybe some soup?"

It was starting to really get on Arthur's nerves. Why the fuck was this bastard so fucking  _nice_? Seriously, if some bastard had been talking to him like he'd been talking to the pig, then he'd have kicked him out. Broken leg or no broken leg.

Actually, he'd probably have made  _sure_  that his leg was broken before kicking him out.

Maybe the pig was a masochist.

"I don't give a fuck."

And he didn't even visibly respond to that, just turned and walked back into the kitchen. Returning in a few minutes to grab the rest of the bags.

Arthur watched him—didn't really have anything else to do—waiting until his hands were full again before suddenly remarking, "When you two  _do_ start fucking, you're probably going to need your handcuffs."

He didn't drop any of the bags this time. Disappointing. One of them was holding eggs, so he'd been hoping that at least  _that_ one would fall. Instead, he just flashed Arthur a semi-irritated glare.

"I told you, I'm not interested..."

"Francis  _always_ gets what he wants," he enjoyed irritating the pig. And it was safe. Actually destroying his possessions or hurting him physically would probably end up with Johnson severely pissed off, but just  _annoying_  the pig wasn't going to do lead to anything that Johnson could hurt him for. "And he doesn't let anyone top during sex unless they can overpower him. So you're going to want to bring along your handcuffs."

"Is there a reason for that?" And he actually sounded a little curious, which wasn't really the reaction that Arthur had wanted.

So he just rolled his eyes and returned to his book. "I don't know. Why would I care  _why_ he does anything? I was just giving you some fucking advice. Take it or leave it."

For a minute, he just stood there. Probably watching him. Arthur was determinedly glaring at the book, so he couldn't actually see what he was doing. And then there was a soft sigh and the bastard  _finally_ left.

Ugh... He needed to get out of here as soon as fucking possible.


	22. Chapter 22

It was a pretty well-established fact that most police chiefs in the United States didn't regularly have their lunch breaks interrupted by panicked phone calls from the mayor's office. And when they did, it usually wasn't because of lobsters.

Yes, lobsters.

Unfortunately, Franklin Breen, chief of police of the rather small and should-be-relatively-quiet town of Pleasantville, wasn't really a normal police chief. As he worked in a town where this was actually a pretty normal occurrence. He had been sitting at his desk in his newly cleaned office earlier today, settling in to enjoy the turkey sandwich that he'd packed for himself this morning. When his phone had started ringing off the hook...

And he had the immediate feeling that he wasn't going to get the chance to enjoy his sandwich anytime soon. A sensation that had only been accentuated when he'd answered the phone and was immediately accosted by a hysterical voice screaming about lobsters.

Apparently, the mayor had been preparing to take a bath earlier today. He'd gone into the bathroom, opened the shower curtain, prepared to step inside the bathtub, and had almost set his foot on top of a lobster.

Yes...

It had taken the chief about five seconds—after he had managed to calm the mayor's wife down to the point where he could understand what in the world she was saying—to figure out who would have pulled something like that. Since there was only one person in the world who would do something like that.

Sometimes he really envied the police chiefs of other cities. Because they only had to deal with normal criminals, like vandals and thieves and killers and rapists. He could deal with that; what he had never been able to figure out was how to deal with  _her_...

"There you are, Frankie! I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost!"

Probably because there was no one else in existence who could stand in the doorway of their home with such a bright, innocent smile after having just finished filling the mayor's bathtub with lobsters. It took a very...different...sort of person to manage that.

He didn't visibly respond to the remark, however. Instead, he turned, picked up the cooler that he'd set down on the porch while he rang the doorbell, and passed it to her, watching as her smile widened as she reached out to take it. "I think this is yours..."

She nodded immediately, opening the cooler and peering inside with a pleased expression. "I knew that you wouldn't let anything happen to poor Benny. Was he a good boy for you?"

There was no other woman on earth who was quite like Mike; he'd stake his life on it. "I think he's still holding a grudge over that comment I made last Christmas." He automatically followed as she turned and walked back into the house, heading back toward her bedroom. "The rubber band broke and the bastard got me when I tried to grab him..."

"Naughty naughty." Which didn't sound at all sincere. "That's what you get for threatening to cook the poor little dear. Benny has the memory of an elephant."

They'd arrived at her bedroom now; he waited in the doorway as she walked inside and over to the  _gigantic_ fish tank that took up most of the wall.

...Very few people knew that Mike happened to have a pet. Even less people were aware of the fact that said pet happened to be a lobster.

A blue lobster named Benny, to be precise.

He stood there, leaning against the door and watching her with vague interest as she opened the cooler that he'd used to transport her pet from the mayor's house—woman was lucky that he hadn't just given the lobster to the cook to serve for dinner tonight, like he'd done with the others—and carefully picked up the crustacean. Looking him over before nodding once and carefully slipping him back into his home.

And then she turned back with a smirk. Warning smirk. One of her 'don't even try to run, because I already have you cornered' smirks. "You're going to stay for dinner, right, Frankie? I have a roast in the oven that should be finished any minute now." She didn't bother waiting for a response, of course. Instead, she just walked right past him and back toward the kitchen.

"I have to get back to work—"

Another smirk sent over the shoulder as she shook a finger at him warningly. "Relax, Frankie. What you need is a good home-cooked meal. I know the sort of things that you make yourself—one of these days, I'm going to have to teach you to cook. Now, you have your phone, so anyone can get a hold of you if they need to... Besides, we need to talk about my little grandbaby."

And how had he known that she was going to want to talk about the kid?

"No longer than fifteen minutes, then." He knew that he was going to lose, so he might as well give in now. Besides, one of Mike's roasts sounded much more appetizing than his probably warm turkey sandwich. He followed her back into the kitchen, settling himself into one of the seats at the kitchen table. The one that he had a tendency to sit at whenever he came here. He leaned back comfortably as she walked to the oven, opened the door, and removed a mouth-watering roast.

Mike might be absolutely insane and a complete pain in the ass who led to injuries that he'd never be able to explain to anyone who didn't live in this town. But even a lobster pinch could be forgiven after you'd taken a bite of one of her roasts. Or pretty much anything else that she made...

Which he was pretty sure that she was well-aware of. The woman was incredibly manipulative. She didn't say another word until she'd prepared a plate for both of them and set his in front of him, dropping into her own seat across from him. Then, as soon as he'd taken a bite of said roast—and immediately found himself a step closer to heaven, "So, how's my grandbaby doing?"

He took his time, chewing as he thought. Then... "Well, he seems very nice. And you were definitely right about him being a hard-worker... He's nothing like you, which is always a plus..."

Mike looked pleased by the comparison. Of course. "Leon is a lot more like Megan, his mother, in that way. Although he  _looks_  almost exactly like Scotty." Another very proud smirk. "And was I right about Johnson?"

"Yes." Again, of course. "They seem to get along surprisingly well. Johnson seems fond of him..."

"And you put him on the job with Arthur, right?"

"Yes."

Honestly, when Mike had come to him with her story about her grandson, who had just graduated from the police academy and was now looking for a job, he'd been rather wary about the whole situation.

First off, the kid was related to Mike... Even if he seemed nice and normal enough, you couldn't be related to that woman without suffering from some sort of abnormality. That was just a fact of life. Secondly, he hadn't really  _needed_  to hire another officer, especially one who was so young and fresh...

Thirdly...

"Good." Mike looked relieved by his answer. "That's good. I want you to keep him on that job. He'll be good with Arthur. And he'll be away from anything really dangerous, right?"

"Right."

Thirdly... He knew that part of the reason why Mike had wanted Leon living in this town was because she could keep an eye on him this way; try to keep him from getting involved in the more dangerous jobs. So that the same thing that happened to his father wouldn't happen to him...

Which meant that he felt incredibly responsible for making sure that this kid didn't get himself hurt or killed.

"Gilly was here earlier." He was rather surprised by the sudden change of subject. He'd been expecting Mike to want to know everything that he could tell her about her grandson. "She brought Ludwig, Kiku, and the Vargas girls, too. It was nice. Poor darlings have been so upset since Francis and Antonio stopped spending time with them."

"They're doing better?" He didn't really know those kids all that well; besides Gillian, of course. Everyone knew Gillian. He was already well-aware of the fact that she was going to be a terror when she got older. Well, more of a terror than she was now. Which was a horrifying concept...

"Yes, better. Gillian wanted me to ask you something, actually."

He immediately hesitated at that remark, fork halfway to his mouth. The way she said that had definitely been  _too_ innocent. "Really? Now what could she want from me?"

"She just wants to bring her friends to the station tomorrow to meet with one of your officers." She smirked at the confused look that he sent her. "A certain rookie that she apparently happened to run into at some point this week."

Oh.

He sighed and took another bite of the roast, shaking his head slightly as he glanced down at his watch. Yeah, he wasn't getting out of here anytime soon. "You want me to let that little terror come in so she can bother my rookie while he's at work, then? I should have guessed."

"Yes." Well, you could never accuse Mike of beating around the bush. She leaned forward; gaze intense on his in a way that was surprisingly serious. "It's the perfect way to introduce Leon to some more people. Which is extremely important, since he's not the most outgoing person in the world; he's just like Megan in that sense. And I was already planning on making sure that he and Gillian met. I knew that she'd absolutely love him, and Leon needs to make friends with someone like her. He's not used to being around people who are actually affectionate, which I'm sure you've noticed."

"He does seem a little nervous around people..."

"Mhm." She immediately nodded, resting back in her seat. Still looking rather serious. "Leon...he's really had a rough life, and I feel badly for never doing anything to help. Granted, I didn't  _know_ about a lot of it until after the fact, since Megan and I avoided each other for quite a few years after Scott died. But, I still feel like I could have helped in some way. Made things a little bit easier for him..."

Mike frowned, staring down at her half-finished meal in thought.

While he watched her, feeling a little sobered by the rare moment of quiet. Sometimes he forgot just how much this woman had gone through in her life...losing her husband and then her son five years later. And then, everything else that had happened.

"All right." It was part of the reason for why he had a tendency to give in to requests like this. "She can come. Only tomorrow, though."

And now she immediately lifted her head, flashing him a smile. "Good. She'll be absolutely thrilled..."

He'd have to make sure to hide all of his important paperwork out of sight beforehand.

"One other thing..." She had let him finish his last few bites before continuing—another of her techniques for manipulating him. She had many. "Neither of them know that the other knows me, and I want things to stay that way for now. I'll talk to Gill beforehand, so she won't mention me. You make sure not to say anything either."

He stared at her in surprise, unable to comment for a few moments as he chewed his mouthful. And then swallowed, remarking with confusion, "She doesn't know that Leon is your grandson?"

"Nope. She doesn't know my last name either, so she probably won't make the connection."

"Why don't you want her to know?" He would think that Mike would love to inform Gillian of the fact that her grandson was currently living in their town. Then again, he'd long ago learned not to make assumptions about what Mike was planning or thinking.

"It's more fun this way!" And she stood, taking his emptied plate and setting it in the sink before grabbing a brown paper bag from the counter beside the refrigerator. Which she immediately set in front of him. "Cookies for the station. Make sure to that you tell Francisco to give Carla my congratulations for making honour roll again. And tell Erik that I hope Lottie feels better—I have this wonderful recipe for chicken noodle soup that always does wonders for me when I'm sick."

"All right." He stood, picking up the bag. He could feel that the cookies inside were still warm... "And the mayor requests that you not pull that sort of prank again."

"Of course not." She followed as he walked toward the front door, attempting to look as innocent as possible. "I'd never pull that sort of prank again. I don't think poor Benny could handle that sort of excitement again."

It was a really good thing that their mayor was relatively used to Mike's shenanigans. If he ever left and they had to get a  _new_ mayor, he doubted that whoever it was would be able to last more than a day in office before having a nervous breakdown.


	23. Chapter 23

Leon's patience was really starting to wear thin. He'd taken that ungrateful brat into his apartment out of the goodness of his heart. He'd given him his jacket, let him read his books, patched up his leg, was currently making him dinner... And the thanks he got?  _More_ sexual harassment.

Why the hell wasn't he throwing the brat out right now? He should just call up the chief right now and tell him that this assignment was  _impossible_. The kid was never going to react positively to him.

He rested against the counter of his kitchen, staring at the bags resting beside him. He'd put everything away and then call the brat's stepbrother to let them know that the jerk was fine. And then...he supposed he should call the school too. Let them know why he hadn't been at school today.

But before all that...

He immediately turned to the sink, sliding his soiled hand under the scalding hot flow after a moment of fiddling with the knobs. And immediately began to scrub at the ink that  _still was refusing to come off_. What the hell? Had the kid used a permanent marker or something?

You know, at this point, it really wouldn't surprise him.

Whatever. He finally slid his hand out of the flow after a few minutes, giving up. It was mostly gone, which he supposed was going to have to suffice for now.

Next step then: putting the groceries away. Which he finished relatively quickly; he'd already gone through his cupboards and mentally laid out his organizational scheme, so it was only a matter of putting everything in its place.

Which meant that now he had to deal with Arthur's family...

He supposed that calling his stepbrother was at least easier than trying to talk to someone else in the family—like his stepfather or mother. Or, at least, that was what he hoped.

Although, that optimism was dashed after he dialled the number. As, after a few moments of ringing, he was answered by a very gruff, irritated-sounding "'ello?"

"Um, is this...Maxen?" He was pretty sure that that was the name that Arthur had given him.

There was a grunt on the other end and then, "Nope, Duncan. Maxen went out and forgot 'is phone."

Great. He'd managed to get into contact with the wrong person. He frowned slightly, using his shoulder to hold the phone against his ear as he walked over and opened the refrigerator. He could start making soup while he was on the telephone, he supposed. Maybe something from scratch? That might get the kid to start liking him more...

Or—more likely—he'd end up insulting his cooking.

"My name is Leon Kennedy; I'm an officer for the Pleasantville Police Department. Are you Arthur Kirkland's stepbrother?" He'd take a wild guess that that was who this guy was...

And he was more than a little surprised when he was immediately answered by an irritated growl. Maybe he should have left off the 'police' part of his introduction. As the next words out of the man's mouth were, "What the hell did the little fucker do  _now_?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Definitely shouldn't have mentioned that he was a police officer. "I just found him in the park earlier this morning with a sprained ankle, and I brought him back to my house. I wanted to make sure that his family was aware..."

"Where  _was_  he?" And he was cut off, the man sounding incredibly  _incredibly_ angry right now. "Mum's a wreck. She's convinced herself that Arthur's gone and gotten himself killed..."

"Well, he was sleeping on a bench in the park..." He wasn't entirely sure how much he should say. Since this guy sounded angry enough to possibly come  _here_ in order to murder his stepbrother. "He's fine, though. Besides the fact that he hurt his ankle. Um..." He shifted his weight nervously, and then continued. "If it's all right with your parents, he could stay here for a while. Until he's healed, at least. He seemed—" He hesitated for a moment "rather reluctant to come back home."

And he was answered by a scoff. "Not surprisin'. He hates all of us."

...And Leon wasn't sure how to respond to that. He couldn't really  _agree_  with him, although Arthur definitely gave off that feeling... So he just opted to keep quiet and set his ingredients out on the counter. Some tomatoes, carrots, celery, potatoes... That was pretty safe. Most people liked vegetable soup, after all.

There were a few more seconds of silence and then the man sighed, his voice a little quieter. "You really wanna live with  _him_ until he's healed up?"

Leon frowned slightly. Not really... But... "It'll probably be best for him, if he's so—hostile—to your family. It won't be a problem space-wise. I have a little apartment and I live alone... I just moved here and..."

" _Just_ moved here?" He sounded rather surprised by the statement. "And you're already dealing with  _that_  piece of shit? That's pretty terrible luck right there..."

...Story of his life. He'd always had wretched luck. "If you'd like, I could come over and pick up some of his clothing, since I'm not really sure that anything I own would fit him." Plus, he wasn't sure if he really wanted Arthur wearing his clothing.

"Don't bother. I'll just have Maxen bring some of Arthur's stuff to wherever you live. You've got enough on your plate if you're trying to deal with that terror..."

Couldn't argue with that. And he was discovering that it was also rather hard to chop up vegetables while holding a phone against your ear with your shoulder... He sighed, turning his head slightly so he could glance toward the door leading to his living room. He felt uncomfortable leaving him alone in there... "All right. I guess that would be easier."

"Yeah, just give me your address..."

Leon nodded slightly, rattling off the address as he pulled a pot out from under the counter and filled it with water. Half of his attention on the conversation, half of his mind busy running through the recipe.

"I'll have Maxen bring it over when he gets back then." There was a moment of silence, long enough that Leon started wondering if he'd been hung up on. And then... "Look...Leon, you said? Arthur is a pain in the ass. An incredibly annoying, idiotic pain in the ass. But—" There was another long pause. Leon had stopped chopping, now paying complete attention to the man's words.

"But, I can understand why he's upset... I mean, his Dad walked out on him and then his Mum got married to our Dad within a few months of that. I would've been pretty angry about it, too..."

Leon waited for a few seconds and then questioned hesitantly, "And...you're worried about him?"

There was another long pause. And then an irritated sigh. "He's...it's just annoying to watch him fuck his life up. He's smart—he doesn't go to school ninety percent of the time and he's still at the top of his class. Just... if you can do  _something_ , I know that Mum and Dad would really appreciate it."

...Why in the world was everyone determined to guilt-trip him into this? He sighed as he glared at the pile of vegetables resting on the counter. "I'll see what I can do... I can't promise anything, though."

"Thanks." There was another moment of silent. Which Leon was not going to fill. Since he was rather irritated with the universe right now. "Well, I'll send Maxen over later, then. Thanks for telling us. I'll let Mum and Dad know that he's okay."

"Yes." Pause. "Well, you're welcome..." And then he removed the phone from where it had been resting against his ear and hung up, taking a moment to glare at the innocent-appearing piece of plastic.  _Why_ was the universe conspiring against him? Just  _why_? There was absolutely no reason for it.

Besides the fact that the universe just seemed to hate his guts in general.

Anyway, he now walked over to the other side of the kitchen, where he'd organized his mail out into a few different racks. One of which just held a fat yellow phone book. Which he proceeded to flip through, as he hummed one of the songs that he'd been listening to while driving under his breath.

Mmm, thinking about driving... Okay, so he probably shouldn't have taken that perverted kid's car. Although, he really wasn't sure what else he could have done with it; it would have been stolen in about five seconds if he'd left it by the side of the road. And, well...he found it hard to feel really bad about it. Since it was a gorgeous car, a dream to drive... And the kid had pretty much every song that you could possibly want to listen to programmed into the vehicle.

He  _really_  was the worst cop ever...

And he'd managed to find the phone number for the school. And he was about to dial it into the phone... But then... It'd been really quiet in the other room. Too quiet.

He sighed, carrying the phone with him as he walked into the doorway. Just to peek on him  _really_  quickly. And then he could call the school and figure out what to do about Arthur's schoolwork. Although, if his brother was right about him skipping all the time, he doubted that anyone would have even noticed.

Or...that was the plan. Up until the part where he noticed that Arthur wasn't sitting on the couch anymore.

No, because he had somehow managed to make his way over to the pile of unpacked boxes in the corner. And he was now leaning over one of them, rummaging inside. And after a few seconds, he removed a rather large wooden box from inside, which he gazed at in interest for a few seconds before he began to open it. Completely unaware of Leon, standing in the doorway and watching him with a horrified expression.

"What the bloody hell?" Leon was barely breathing as the teenager reached inside the box, removing—harshly, not gently at all—a faded, red object. Which he stared at in confusion, turning it around to look at it from different angles as if expecting it to suddenly turn into something else...

And Leon  _finally_ managed to jerk out of his shock and move, feet taking him across the room without conscious thought. Hands reaching out to grab the object, startling Arthur enough that he dropped it without a struggle.

"Don't touch that!" And he hadn't meant to yell... He also hadn't meant to immediately clutch the object to his chest in an overly protective motion. Shit. His heart was pounding at a ridiculously fast speed, like he was about to have a heart attack or something.

And Arthur was staring at him in shock, eyes almost comically wide. Before he seemed to regain control over himself and they narrowed in a rather challenging expression. "What the—I was just  _looking_ at it. Why the hell do you have a fucking  _toy lobster_ , pig? Can't get to sleep without it or something?" And he now glared at the stuffed toy, which made Leon automatically tighten his grip. "Besides, it's falling to pieces anyway..."

"It's  _old_. It was my dad's..." He needed to stop sounding defensive. He couldn't let this kid get under his skin. This was his  _job_. He couldn't fail at his very first job...

Although, he really didn't like the look that the kid was giving him. A semi-curious look. As if wondering what in the world he meant by that remark... His grip on the toy tightened again.

"Your da—" He cut himself off, as if realizing that he was actually showing interest in what he'd said. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and snorted again. "So, you're a fucking daddy's boy? Not surprising."

And... Leon honest to God had no idea what happened in the next few seconds. All he knew was that one minute he was standing there, clinging to the plush lobster and trying his best to keep counting to ten... The kid  _wanted_ him to react. He  _couldn't_ react. He had to keep calm...

And the next minute, he was leaning over the brat. One hand lifting him off of the ground by his shirt collar, the other tangled in his hair and yanking his head back so that Leon's infuriated eyes met suddenly terrified emerald green ones...

"Don't. Talk. About. My. Parents." He made sure to emphasize each word by tugging a little harder on the blond strands captured in his fist. "Listen,  _kid_. I took you  _into my home_ out of the goodness of my heart, okay? I could have left you out there; I  _should_ have left you out there. But I didn't. So you'd better be fucking grateful. I am  _sick_  of putting up with this shit."

He was only half aware of an almost-frantic nod of the head.

Calm down. Calm down. He had to calm down. Count to ten...

His grip on the teenager loosened... And then he quickly stood up and took a step backwards, focusing on breathing. Just breathe. In. Out.

"Stay out of my stuff." He was calm enough to say that, at least. Although his voice was hard, still not entirely relaxed. "And don't you  _dare_  insult my parents. I  _will_ kick you out... And I'll make sure that your ankle really  _is_ broken when I do it."

Okay... That was it. Calm down. He took another breath. Let it out. Ignore the still-shocked expression that hadn't left the teenage boy's face...

He hurriedly bent down and picked up the toy, which he'd dropped at some point. And then turned, quickly returning to the kitchen, where the pot of water was boiling violently.

He stared at it for a moment. And then sighed, turning the heat down as he dropped down into one of the seats at the kitchen table. Setting the toy in front of him, staring at the frayed stitches and faded fabric...

And then he leaned over and grabbed the phone, dialling a long-memorized phone number.

"Chris? Yeah, I'm fine... Don't worry. I just—do you have time to talk?"


	24. Chapter 24

"Antoine!"

Antonio was rather startled by the sudden shout coming from behind him—startled enough that he immediately halted, right in the middle of the hallway. Almost causing a few of the students who had been following him to collide.

He didn't notice this, however; he was too focused on the fact that his best friend was currently running toward him, looking incredibly panicked.

"Antoine! Antoine!" And Francis grabbed onto Antonio's arm as he passed, not even slowing down and instead began dragging his best friend toward a nearby restroom. Almost causing Antonio to trip over his own feet as he attempted to follow his friend. He had a moment, and just a moment, to regain his balance as Francis threw the bathroom door open, but then he was dragged him inside.

No one else was inside the room, thankfully...

"Franny? What's wrong?"

Francis didn't immediately speak. Instead, he walked over to the sinks and just stood there, staring at himself in the mirror. Antonio noticed that Francis looked like he hadn't slept well last night; there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair—usually very clean and soft and pretty—was limp and lifeless.

And then he finally spoke, glancing back toward his friend as he ran his fingers through his hair in a harsh motion. "It's Arthur... Two nights ago, he called me to tell me that he was leaving his house—you heard that he was arrested, right? Well, his stepfather wasn't happy about that, obviously—he told me that he was going to climb out of the window, go out and get drunk, whatever."

"Sí..." Antonio wasn't entirely sure why Francis was so upset. Arthur did that sort of thing all the time.

"That was  _two nights ago_. And I haven't heard a  _thing_ from him since then!" He spun around, losing his balance and falling back against the sinks... Antonio hurriedly moved forward to grasp his wrist in a comforting gesture.

He didn't really like Arthur all that much, but if Francis was this worried about him... "Maybe he just forgot? Or he hasn't sobered up yet?"

"But that man—" He cut himself off and then groaned, lifting himself up so he could sit on top of the counter, scooting so he could rest his back against the mirror. "Arthur is an imbecile. He enjoys trying to pick fights, even if there is no possible way that he can win. He could quite easily have gotten himself hurt or killed..." Francis looked like he was about to be sick.

"Franny?" And Antonio hurriedly hoisted himself up onto the counter so he could sit next to Francis, pressing himself up against his side in an attempt to offer some comfort. He hated to see Francis upset. He _really_ hated to see Francis upset... "It's okay, Franny. Don't be sad. Nothing bad is going to happen, okay?" He punctuated the remark by bending his head slightly and brushing his lips against his best friend's cheek.

Which caused Francis to freeze for a moment, seemingly startled. Before he recovered with a slightly nervous chuckle. And then he returned the affection. "Ah, Antoine. You're too good. How did you get involved in this mess?"

Antonio's lips began to twitch downwards. But then he forced himself to keep smiling, snuggling his head against Francis's shoulder. "Franny is being silly."

"You miss cher Lovina, don't you?"

And Antonio's smile immediately collapsed. He opened his mouth a few times, attempting to speak. And then he finally managed to stammer out, "S—sí. But...it's okay, Franny. I  _want_ to be with you... And Lovi has lots of good friends. And I don't want her to do bad things...like Gill. You said that we couldn't let Gill come with us because she'd want to do everything with us and..."

And he was cut off by a pair of lips pressing against his.

For a moment, Antonio couldn't respond. His brain felt as if it had just shut down out of confusion. Francis was kissing him—on the mouth...

Why was Francis...?

He didn't have a chance to finish that thought, though, as Francis suddenly leaned back. Eyes entirely unreadable, leaving Antonio just staring at him with a wide, confused expression.

"You're  _too_ good." And now he suddenly jumped off of the counter, glancing back at himself in the mirror, his nose wrinkling slightly before he sighed and walked over to the door.

Leaving Antonio to just stare at him for a few seconds. Before he suddenly realized that his friend was about to leave without him. And now he jumped down as well... Less gracefully, though, as he managed to slip in a puddle that he hadn't noticed and almost fell right onto the floor. Just barely managed to catch himself...

"Franny, wait~!"

He caught up rather quickly; a little worried when he saw that Francis wasn't smiling. He looked determined, instead. Like he was about to go to battle or something.

Francis was acting weird. And Antonio really didn't like it. But, he had to stay with Francis, so he walked alongside him. For once, not chattering excitedly about anything... Just walking silently. Francis didn't speak either, and he also didn't try to flirt with any of the girls or boys that they passed, even when they tried to catch his attention.

Antonio managed to last quite a while without questioning, but... It eventually became too much. "Where are we going, Franny? Is something wrong? Why did you—?"

" _You_ are going to talk to Lovina... And  _I_ am going to find Arthur." And his words came out almost harshly, which caused Antonio to miss a few steps and fall back. Which meant that he had to almost-run for a few seconds to catch up.

"Qué? But Lovi hates me now..."

Francis frowned, sending Antonio an almost warning-look. "Antoine, you need to stop this... You're still okay. You still have Lovi and your maman and everyone... And I shouldn't have let you follow us as long as I did..."

Antonio was starting to feel sick to his stomach. Francis wasn't making any sense. What was he talking about? Why was he saying this so suddenly? The only thing that Antonio really understood...

It sounded like Francis was saying that he didn't want to be friends with him anymore. Almost like... He was leaving?

Which made Antonio immediately panic.

"Por qué? What's going on, Franny?" Francis couldn't mean that... He  _couldn't_. Antonio was supposed to stay with Francis forever and not let him be lonely or sad ever again. He'd promised that when they were little kids. And he'd kept his promise, no matter what... "What's wrong? You're not—are you leaving?"

And Francis  _immediately_  flinched at that. Almost as if he'd been slapped by the words. But, he was only taken aback for a moment. Before he answered, in a voice that almost sounded dead, "Non... Of course not."

"You're lying." And Antonio's voice was accusing. And hurt.

And Francis didn't respond. Didn't defend himself or admit to it...

Instead, after a few moments of silence, he turned his head to stare back at Antonio. Who jerked backwards, startled by the intensity of the expression that was set deep within those very familiar eyes...

An expression... Indescribable... A mixing of anger and sorrow and something else. Something that forced Antonio to halt, almost like he had been paralyzed.

"Antoine... I'm not letting you do this."

"But..."

He was vaguely aware of eyes watching them, dozens of gossip-hungry students watching as Francis's eyes hardened and then he spoke the words that broke Antonio's heart.

"Antonio, I never want to see you again. I never want to speak to you again..." He hesitated for a moment, one hand fisting his jeans' fabric. And then he continued, eyes refusing to meet Antonio's horrified expression. "So, goodbye..."

And he immediately turned, walking toward the entrance... All of the students that had stopped to watch the spectacle immediately parting to let him pass.

Leaving him standing there. Alone. Too shocked to even move or speak or breathe...

_Francis? No..._

"Francis!"


	25. Chapter 25

Go to school. Keep your head down. Avoid people as much as possible. Hide in the girls' locker room or an open, empty classroom during lunch. Then leave as soon as the bell rang at the end of the day, signalling that they could finally escape from this prison.

All Lovina cared about right now was surviving. Just  _surviving_ this hellhole.

And she wasn't even surviving for  _herself_. She was doing it for her sister. Because she loved Feli—and she didn't want her idiot sister to worry about her when she had so few brain cells. She couldn't afford to waste any of them worrying about  _her._

Anyway, Lovina needed to survive, so she had developed a set of rules to follow while at school. They didn't always work, mostly due to the fact that there were groups of girls who enjoyed seeking her out in order to taunt her. No matter how hard she tried to avoid them, they were always able to find her...

And sometimes Feliciana would grab her arm and drag her to lunch, forcing her to sit amongst her friends and fake-eat.

But, for the most part, they were acceptable rules that at least made survival a bit easier. And she was almost used to everything by this point. Used to the stares and whispers and rumours and the ankles that would sometimes appear out of nowhere and attempt to trip her up...

She barely even responded anymore.

Which was why she was rather confused right now.

As nobody was paying any attention to her. There weren't any shouts or taunts from the girls that she passed. No one tried to knock her books out of her hands or anything. Instead, everyone was standing in clusters in the hallways, whispering amongst themselves in what was almost a frenzy.

"...Right in the middle of the hallway..."

"...Were they even going out?"

"...Broke down crying... Think they both left..."

"...Bunch of faggots anyway. I say good riddance. Maybe they'll end up in the slammer like Kirkland..."

She was incredibly confused, as she had no clue what anyone was talking about. Someone had broken up with someone else? But that usually wouldn't cause  _this_ much gossip. And something about prison? What?

She was broken out of her thoughts rather suddenly by the feel of someone grabbing onto her arm. Startling her enough that she almost dropped her textbooks.

"Ve~ Lovi! Did you hear?"

Why in the world did Feliciana have to always pop out of nowhere like a fucking ninja? Lovina turned to flash a glare at her sister... But immediately froze, shocked by the tearful expression that was etched across Feli's face.

And which immediately sent a wave of panic through her mind. Was she hurt? Was something wrong? "Wha—?"

Feli didn't even allow her enough time to ask what was going on. "Francis told Antonio that he hated him! Right in the middle of the hallway. He said that he never wanted to talk to him ever again and then he left and Antonio started  _crying_! And then he ran off too and now nobody knows where either of them are and...and..." And now  _Feli_ started crying, throwing her arms around her sister in a death grip. "Ve~!"

Lovina's brain had pretty much just shut down, too confused by her sister's mile-a-minute ramblings and sudden tears to even begin to attempt to figure out what had just happened...  _That's what you get for coming to school late. Fucking dentist..._ Although she'd been absolutely ecstatic about missing a few hours of hell this morning.

"Wait... What? Francis and An—" Damn it. She couldn't even say his  _name_. "They had a fight?"

"Ve~" Feliciana lifted her head from where she'd been sobbing into Lovina's shirt—leaving a wet patch, of course—to stare up at her with teary eyes. "Sì. But they've been best friends  _forever_! And Antonio was so sad! He started  _crying_ and then he ran away..."

Lovina hated to admit it, but her first thought once Feliciana's words had finally managed to penetrate her brain was 'Ha, serves the bastard right'. Since...well, that's what he'd done to her!

But that sentiment was gone within a matter of seconds. As it was immediately replaced by the mental image of Antonio...crying... She'd only seen Antonio cry a few times in her life and she never  _ever_ wanted to see it again. Even if he was a bastard and a complete jerk.

Damn it. "Do you know why? Did he leave the school?"

"Ve~" Feli wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, frowning slightly in thought. "I think he left. And I don't know... He and Francis  _never_ fight."

Yeah, she was definitely well-aware of that fact. The two had practically been joined at the hip since they'd met. Which she'd oftentimes found rather annoying; since the blond was a complete  _pervert_ who had no concept of personal space.

But—the idea of Francis telling Antonio that he never wanted to see him again... It was impossible. It made no  _sense._  And why would he  _say_  something like that? Especially in the middle of the school. Now _Antonio_ was going to be the one that was the subject of all of the rumours. And he was so stupid that he wouldn't be able to ignore them like she did.

And damn it. Now she was getting pissed off. Which she shouldn't, since Antonio was a jerk who probably deserved it.

But at the same time...

"Damn it." She brushed her hair behind her ear in an irritated, distracted movement, glancing back toward the front entrance. She  _could_  leave and follow him. Except that he had no idea where in the world he would go... Definitely not home. So she turned back toward her sister. "If you see him anywhere, call me..."

Feliciana looked a little surprised by the statement. "O—okay. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go look for him, in case he's still in this fucking building." Which was probably going to take forever. Although at least she knew where all of the best hiding places were by this point...

Damn it. She was going to headbutt him  _so_ hard when she found him. Make the bastard suffer for ditching her and being a fucking idiot.

"O—okay, Lovi..." Lovina didn't even bother to say goodbye to her sister before stomping off.

Which meant that Feliciana was left standing there awkwardly, unsure what she should do right now. Maybe she should make sure that Gillian knew what had happened? Or maybe Ludwig?

Maybe if she was lucky, she'd find both of them at the same place.


	26. Chapter 26

He shouldn't have done that.

Antonio knew that he  _definitely_  shouldn't have done that.

But, it was kind of pretty. All of the shards reflecting different pieces of the room and pieces of himself back toward him. The red just drawing your eye. Little drops and smears everywhere... It was pretty, in a way.

He was holding one of the pieces between his fingers, twisting it back and forth and watching as it reflected little shards of everything at him... His dark hair, the green bathroom stalls, the walls covered with crude remarks written in pen and marker.

"Antonio!" And he blinked once, slowly turning his head toward the sound. Listening for a moment. He'd recognised that voice...

The thought floated away, though. Along with every other thought in his mind outside of the vague contemplation of red against the reflective surface. He knew that he'd done something wrong, but he couldn't really remember what it was... He knew that he was currently kneeling on the floor in one of the boys' restrooms. Little pricks digging into his legs. But he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten here.

The last thing he remembered was Franny. Saying that...  _'I never want to see you again. I never want to speak to you again.'_

Franny couldn't really mean that. Franny would never leave him like that...

"Antonio!" Same voice. The principal, maybe? Mr. Klarkson? Antonio wondered why he'd be looking for him... "Antonio, unlock the door!"

And that was when Antonio felt the first twinges of panic, as he looked around the room. At the pieces of mirror that surrounded him.

He shouldn't have broken it...

He should get out of here.

But he couldn't exit through the door. He could hear people outside and he knew that they would be very  _very_ angry when they saw what he'd done... Maybe the window?

He slowly rose, wincing as he did so. He hurt. His body felt hot and jolts of pain were starting to shoot up his legs and his arms were burning. And his jeans were soaked with something dark and sticky. Glass jutting out of a tear in the fabric... Big piece of glass. He should pull that out, right? He couldn't remember...

And he was suddenly startled from his thoughts by the click of the lock turning and then the louder sound of the door creaking open. And it opened to reveal a crowd of people standing outside. Teachers... a few students standing in the back, attempting to peer around bodies and over shoulders.

Staring at him with wide eyes and horrified expressions.

...He just stared back, unsure what to do. Should he apologise? Or try to pick up the glass or...or... He started to take a step forward. "L—lo..."

"Don't move." He immediately halted as one of the teachers stepped forward—one of the biology teachers, he remembered—holding his hand out. Slowly walking toward him, taking care to avoid the glass. "Don't move anymore. We're going to get the nurse..."

"Holy shit..." Antonio looked over the man's shoulder to where one of the other teachers was standing, her hand over her mouth. Looking slightly startled by the words that had come out of her own mouth.

Mr. Klarkson was standing in the front, looking over the room with an impassive expression. At least he didn't look angry; Antonio felt horrible. He shouldn't have made such a mess... Even if he was pretty sure that he hadn't meant to. It had just  _happened_  somehow. At least, he couldn't remember it happening otherwise...

"Just stay there. Don't move."

He felt sick. He felt sick and he hurt. And he wanted Francis to come back. He'd make everything better. He'd do whatever it took to make things better. He didn't understand why Francis would leave him when he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Breathe. Antonio, you need to breathe..."

A hand was holding onto his elbow, helping him stay upright. Another hand rubbing circles into his back. His chest felt tight. And he just wanted to sit down. His knees were threatening to give out.

"I have the wheelchair." Another voice, this one soft and gentle... And then the hands were leading him forward, slowly. Very slowly. Brushing at his clothing—he could hear the soft patter of glass pieces falling to the floor. And he was being settled down onto something soft.

"Take him to the nurse's office... You, call for an ambulance. I think he's starting to go into shock."

The voices sounded far away. He stared up into the faces staring at him, unable to differentiate between them. Teachers and students. The principal.

"Lo siento... Lo siento..." He was moving forward now, a hand still settled on his shoulder. His arms were resting on the arms of the chair, which he nervously gripped for a moment before he jerked his hands away with a yelp.

"It's all right, Toni. Just don't touch anything..."

"Whoa! Antonio smashed the mirror in the guys' bathroom!" he heard one of the students shout.

"Get back to class!" And that was Mr. Klarkson.

"Anyone who isn't in class in the next five seconds gets detention!"

He heard a few people groan at that, but they started to move away. Along with all of the teachers except for the biology teacher, principal, and whoever was pushing him... The nurse?

"Do you need anything else, Paul?"

"No. Everything will be okay. I'll call for custodial to come in and clean that up..."

And that was the last thing he was really aware of... Until he could feel himself being lifted up. The lights were brighter in here, he was vaguely aware of. Nurse's office. He'd been in here once or twice before. The nurses were nice...

"You're going to be all right, sweetie. We're calling for an ambulance."

Very nice. He felt bad for ruining the mirror now. He hadn't meant to... He'd just been upset and angry. And why would Franny leave him? He still didn't understand.

And Lovi... Where was Lovi? He wanted to see her. He wanted to say sorry. Francis had said that he should say sorry to her.

If he said sorry, then maybe everything could go back to normal. Like when they were kids. Franny and Arthur would stop doing bad things and everyone would go back to being best friends. Lovi would yell at him when he did stupid things and he'd get to see her turn red like a tomato... And Gill would come up with silly pranks that he and Franny would help her play on people like Roddy.

And he missed Lovi.

He  _really_  missed Lovi.

Antonio just wanted everything to go back to the way it used to be. When everyone was happy and things didn't hurt so badly and they were all  _together_...

"You're going to be okay, Antonio." Hands were touching his legs, moving them slowly. Resting on top of something soft and squishy. "We're going to make a tourniquet now to slow down the bleeding, so it might feel a little uncomfortable..."

...Everything just needed to go back to the way it used to be.


	27. Chapter 27

"I shouldn't have yelled at him. I know that I shouldn't have yelled at him, but...he's so aggravating! I'm just trying to  _help_... And I'm letting him stay in my home and eat my food and I even went out and bought him crutches and pain killers and everything. And I called his family so they'd know he was okay and his brother came by yesterday to bring his clothes and textbooks—I have no idea if he'll actually _use_ those textbooks, but at least he'll have the opportunity to catch up..."

Leon talked quite a lot.

It wasn't unpleasant, but it was definitely a change. As Johnson was used to being surrounded by constant silence; he lived and usually worked alone, after all. And even when he  _was_ around people, they tended to be relatively quiet. Sometimes they'd talk to him for a few minutes, making little observations about the weather or things like that. But then they'd almost always end up fading into silence.

Not his new partner.

"Maybe I should go talk to his parents directly. Ask them some questions about what happened... But then again, his brother said that he's upset because his dad walked out on his mom and then she got remarried pretty soon after that. So it might be rude to go ask them about something personal like that... Especially since I'm a complete stranger."

Johnson was currently seated at his desk, working on filling out one of the many forms that had to be completed by the end of the week; the pile in front of him had gradually been shrinking throughout the morning and would hopefully be completed by the end of the day.

Leon had appeared at his doorway about a half hour earlier. Looking rather sheepish and nervous-he'd just stood there for quite a few moments. Before he cleared his throats and asked if it was okay if he came in to talk to him.

Johnson had immediately responded by nodding his consent, inclining his head once in the direction of his partner. And then he returned his attention to the paper in front of him as Leon walked in, grabbed a chair from against the wall, and settled into his—what was rapidly becoming his  _usual_ —position on the other side of Johnson's desk. Arms folded on top of the envelopes and papers that Johnson wasn't currently working on, chin resting on top of his arms.

The younger man had remained silent for a few minutes, eyes temporarily fixated on the movements of Johnson's pen... And then he'd just started talking. The tone of his voice revealing obvious frustration.

"And...I just have no idea what I'm supposed to do. I have no idea how to be a 'big brother' to someone like him..." And now Johnson glanced up at that especially-defeated tone. His gaze meeting with a pair of bright blue eyes, practically begging for any sort of advice.

Advice... Asking  _him_ for advice...

The thought passed through Johnson's mind—not for the first time—that this whole situation was incredibly strange. Out of everyone that the chief could have picked to be this rookie's partner, he'd picked _him_. A person who was used to silence and solitude, who kept his interactions with other people at an absolute minimum. Not the sort of person who knew how to advise to a rookie about how to be a 'big brother' to one of the town's most-stubborn juvenile delinquents.

Then again, he supposed that the chief must have some sort of idea of  _why_ he wanted them to be partners. Since he'd been  _adamant_  about the assignment... He'd even come to his office a few days before Leon arrived and just sat down to talk about him. About how he wanted Johnson to keep a close eye on him—he was only a rookie, after all; a  _young_ rookie at that—and was bound to make plenty of mistakes...

Still, Johnson couldn't really imagine what the chief's reasoning could be. There were plenty of officers who were just as—if not more—qualified to help him get used to the town.

And Leon hadn't started talking again. He was still resting with his chin settled on the arms that were sitting on Johnson's paperwork, staring up at him, as if waiting for him to speak.

So, he wanted his advice on what to do about Arthur Kirkland?

It would probably be easier if he actually knew anything about Arthur Kirkland. He only really knew a few basic facts about the kid. He was intelligent, didn't get along with his family, seemed to be rather close friends with Francis even if the two sometimes acted like they despised each other... And he could be  _very_ dangerous when crossed.

"The chief said that I should try to be an 'older brother'." Now Leon continued, lifting his head slightly so he could watch Johnson from a better angle. "You said that you have older brothers... What did they do with you?"

...And Johnson was pretty sure that  _his_ interactions with his brotherswould serve as a rather poor example of how to act with Arthur.

A very  _very_ poor example.

"Ya know what he likes?" he instead questioned, removing his cigarette from between his lips for a moment as he blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling and tapped the ash into the ashtray resting on his desk.

"Well..." Leon hesitated, eyebrows now knitting in thought. "Not...really...He has a bunch of band T-shirts, though. So, he probably likes those bands? Or music like that, right?"

Johnson nodded again. "Ya could start there..."

"Leon~!"

And that was the exact moment when a blur of black, white, and yellow raced through the doorway of Johnson's office and tackled Leon. Knocking over him, the chair, the blur, and quite a lot of Johnson's paperwork.

...And there was a moment of pure silence after that. As Johnson just stared at where his partner  _had_ been sitting for a few seconds. And then...

"Leon! Leon! Guess what, Leon?"

And now the blur was identified. By that voice and the fact that Johnson could now see the blur's long silvery-coloured hair.

Apparently Gillian Beilschmidt knew his partner.

And with that thought, he lifted his eyes toward the doorway. Where the chief was standing, looking like he was desperately trying to keep from laughing. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, his lips pursed tightly but kept twitching upwards. And he was surrounded by three teenagers. The tallest, a blond boy who had similar facial features to the albino who had just attacked his partner. Ludwig Beilschmidt, he seemed to remember. He'd met the entire family once or twice before—Ludwig was much quieter and more well-behaved than his sister.

He was currently standing with his palm pressed against his forehead and was now staring at the floor while shaking his head violently. Beside him was a much smaller brunette girl who was bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking unsure of whether she should run after the older girl or remain where she was.

And then beside her was a young Asian boy, eyes wide and lips twitching. Expression seemingly uncertain of whether he should be concerned over the safety of the man or shocked that Gillian would actually tackle someone like that.

"I brought Luddy and Feli and Kiku with me!" And now Johnson finally allowed his gaze to fall upon his partner, who was currently lying with his back against the floor. The chair that he'd formerly been sitting on was half-resting on top of his legs and Gillian was sitting on his stomach, staring down at him with wide eyes. Bouncing every so often out of some mixture of excitement and impatience.

"What the—Gill?" He stared up at her, just looking completely shocked.

"Wait'll you hear what happened at school today!" Another bounce and Leon winced. "Tonio got hurt!"

Leon was now rubbing at the back of his head while simultaneously attempting to push her off with the opposite hand, wincing at each bounce on his stomach. "Gill, get  _off_  of me. And what in the  _world_  are you doing here?"

She ignored him, apparently too interested in her story. "The mirror exploded in the bathroom and he got cut up!"

Johnson frowned, lips twitching downwards slightly. So that had been Antonio... He'd known that a group of officers had gone out to the school earlier for something involving a mirror breaking, but he hadn't been aware that Antonio Carriedo was involved. Or that he'd gotten hurt.

"But the principal said that he's just a little hurt and he'll be okay," the little brunette girl hurriedly added. Her previous smile slipping a little bit as she glanced toward the blond male in search of reassurance. He blushed, but patted her on the shoulder in a way that seemed to make her feel more comfortable. As her smile widened again.

And Leon had finally managed to get Gillian to move so he could pull himself into a seated position. Continuing to rub at the back of his head and back as he stared at her with a bemused expression. "Huh? Wh—" And then he interrupted himself with a pained groan as his hand seemed to brush against some sore spot. "Damn it, that hurt..."

"Sorry." She had jumped up and now stood over him. Her apology came out quickly, not sounding overly sincere. Particularly when she hurriedly changed the subject and tugged on his sleeve, trying to pull him to his feet. "Come on! You need to meet everybody! And then we can go do awesome things!"

"Wha—Gill, I'm working... Why the hell are you here anyway?"

"Because I'm awesome and we're going to do awesome things with everybody else!" She continued tugging on his sleep, trying to force him to move forward.

Johnson didn't miss the look of pleading that Leon sent him. A sort of 'please get her away from me.'

He just didn't have a chance to respond before he was interrupted by the chief stepping inside the room, still looking overly-amused with the situation. "Why don't you go ahead, Leon? You can take the rest of the day off."

"Huh?"

"Awesome!" Gillian didn't give him a chance to respond, as she now gave an extra-hard tug and almost knocked him off balance again. "Let's go, Leon!"

"B—but..." He was slowly starting to follow her tugs, too confused to respond in any other way.

"Ve~!" And now the brunette girl grabbed onto his other hand, also tugging him forward. "This is gonna be fun!"

Johnson hoped that his partner would be okay after this...


	28. Chapter 28

Arthur had lasted about two hours before the boredom had become too much for him...

Which was a lot longer than he'd expected to last actually. Considering the fact that he currently only had a box of books with which to amuse himself. Leon had promised that he'd get him some more things to do while he was out, but Arthur had no idea how long it would take for him to return. At least half of the day, he imagined. He had no idea how long pigs usually worked for...

Anyway, he'd done a rather impressive job of keeping himself from dying of boredom for those two hours. He'd read through some of the books, filled out crossword puzzles, counted the cracks on the ceiling. But honestly, enough was enough.

Because he was really really  _bored_. And tired.

And this was all the pig's fault.

Although, part of his mind, a part that he was currently desperately attempting to suppress, wasn't exactly agreeing with that conclusion. Instead, it was spending its time pointing fingers at  _him._   _He_ was the one who had decided to jump out of that damned police station, after all. Hell, if Leo—no, the  _pig —_ hadn't stopped and helped him, who knew what would have happened to him? He'd probably be dead in an alley somewhere.

...It was a part of his mind that Arthur had been doing his best to ignore for the past...however long it had been since the first time that he had ended up fucking with Francis.

The part of his mind that asked him what the  _hell_  he thought he was doing. That tried to make him feel  _guilty_...

Damn it. And now he sat upright. Pushing angrily at the blankets that were twisting around his middle. He couldn't start second-guessing himself  _now_. Not when he was so close to escaping. Damn it, this whole thing was just some shitty temporary setback. Just because he was laid up for a while in some pig's apartment didn't mean that he could start thinking about things like  _that_.

It was all the pig's fault. Arthur had just been startled by his reaction to him touching that toy of his. The ratty lobster with the stuffing sticking out of its seams.

It had been a completely over-the-top reaction, if you asked him. You'd think that it was made of gold or something from the way he'd cradled it to his chest after grabbing it out of Arthur's hands...

...It had made Arthur feel a little curious, actually.

N—not that he actually was curious about the  _pig_. He was just a fucking  _pig_. Arthur felt nothing towards him outside of complete hatred and contempt.

He'd seen some other things in that box, though. Underneath the box that held the toy lobster. More books, maybe. Although different. Leather-bound, perhaps?

Now Arthur glanced toward the pair of crutches resting against the couch. Leon had left them there so he could make his way around the apartment if he wanted to; he'd used them a few times so far, just to hobble to the bathroom or to stretch his legs for a bit. Now he reached out and used the arm of the couch to pull himself to his feet, careful not to rest any weight on his injured foot. Using the crutches to balance. And then he slowly began to walk-hop-hobble toward the pile of boxes.

Pig shouldn't have left him alone for so long if he didn't want him to look through his stuff. Shouldn't have acted so  _weird_ about it too.

All of the boxes were neatly labelled, in a way that might hint at some anal neat-freak personality. He and Ludwig Beilschmidt would probably get along if he  _was_ like that.

The one that he was mostly interested in was the one that he'd been rummaging through before. Now closed and resting on the bottom of the pile. 'Mementos' written on the side. He flopped down onto the floor, moving the other boxes to the side as he tugged this one toward him.

So, he'd said that the lobster was his dad's... He pulled that box out first, setting it aside. The way he had said it made it sound like his dad was gone or something.

Not that he cared.

Yes, that was a book underneath. A nice leather-bound book that he now tugged out.

And was very happy that he had decided to do so.

As it was a  _yearbook_.

A very recent yearbook too, only from two years ago... Which meant that the pig really  _was_ as young as he looked. Which meant... He was probably around six years older than him?

Anyway, that wasn't important. What was important was the fact that a goldmine of blackmail was currently settled on his lap. Which he now opened to the first page.

Which was absolutely  _covered_ with signatures... Various handwritings, various colours. Mostly feminine handwriting.

Well, looked like  _someone_ was popular in high school...

Most of them weren't all that interesting. Phone numbers, 'Keep in Touch'es, 'Never change'... All of the boring shit that no one really cared about.

So he flipped farther in. Smiling faces that he didn't recognise... Sports teams, clubs, bands, choir—ooh... Wait a minute.

More messages and signatures. On one of the choir pages.

That was relatively interesting. He paused there... One of the messages written in bright pink pen stuck out...  _'_ _Leon, you have the voice of an angel. K.I.T Love, Rebecca'_.

...Singing? The pig could sing?

He now looked at the picture. And there he was, standing near the centre. Smiling at the camera.

Well, now  _that_ could be potentially useful information. Rather surprising too. He wouldn't have pegged him as that type of person.

Actually, he wasn't sure what type of person he'd peg him as. He hadn't really thought about it too much. Since, you know, he was a pig. And that was really the only thing that mattered.

And now he glanced down into the box again...

...There was another book in there. This one covered with dark blue cloth. Resting with its cover facing upwards. The title reading 'My Photos'.

And he immediately set the yearbook aside at that. Reaching inside the box and tugging the photo album into his lap, not even bothering to wonder about why he was so interested in the pig's photos all of a sudden. He just opened the book.

To a wedding photo interestingly enough... Or what he assumed was a wedding photo, since the woman seemed to be wearing a wedding dress. Albeit, a rather simple one. And the man was wearing a tuxedo. They looked  _really_ young, though. Probably not even out of high school, he imagined. And they were standing on a beach, the man's arms wrapped around her shoulders. Both of them beaming joyfully at the camera.

And she was cradling a baby in her arms.

The words 'Scott and Megan Kennedy wedding' were neatly penned out underneath in handwriting that Arthur was learning to recognise as Leon's... So, his parents? He looked almost exactly like his dad, weirdly enough. He flipped to the next page. Their marriage certificate, neatly pasted in place. And more wedding pictures of the couple and the baby.

Lots of wedding photos. He flipped through those quickly. Not really paying too much attention, since it wasn't like he'd know the people anyway. And then he set upon lots and  _lots_  of baby pictures.

Now  _these_ were the pictures that he could use for blackmail. Easily.

He flipped through them relatively quickly. Baby Leon at the beach, baby Leon with his dad, baby Leon in the sink—he'd have to make sure to get a copy of that one... Baby Leon with some older kid. Baby Leon with that stuffed lobster.

Seriously, it looked banged up even back then. Did the git not know how to sew or something? It wasn't like it'd be that difficult to fix, really. He'd just need his sewing kit.

... _If_  he wanted to fix it. Which he didn't.

The only reason that he'd ever fix the pig's stupid toy would be if he wanted to show him just how much of a git he really was. Since he couldn't even fix a fucking plush toy.

...And now Arthur scowled to himself as he glanced across the room, toward where he knew the lobster was sitting on top of the kitchen table. He'd left it there this morning with strict instructions that Arthur not  _touch it_.

...He  _was_ bored, though.

And sewing that piece of trash up would give him something to do for a while.

Although, he'd need his sewing kit. He rather doubted that the pig had one—and even if he did, he wouldn't know where to look for it.

And he definitely wasn't calling his family to have someone bring it. Dealing with Maxen had been bad enough. Even if he hadn't really said anything to him outside of 'here you go' and 'don't wreck his apartment'.

...He supposed he could always ask someone else to bring him a sewing kit.

Like Francis.

Which, now that he thought about it... How long had it been since he'd called Francis? He'd called him before he left his house. But, he was pretty sure that he hadn't actually contacted him since then.

And he now groaned in irritation at that thought. He should call him; make sure that the frog hadn't done something idiotic without him around and let him know that he wasn't dead.

And he  _supposed_ that since he was calling him anyway, he might as well ask him to bring his sewing kit. Which meant that Francis would now know where the pig lived, but it would serve him right for leaving Arthur alone without anything to do.

...And he most definitely wasn't calling Francis because he wanted company. Definitely not.


	29. Chapter 29

How long had he been walking?

Hours, Francis guessed, judging by the burning pain shooting up and down his legs and the soreness of his feet. He would've worn something more comfortable today if he'd known that he was going to be touring their town so spontaneously.

...This was stupid.

Everything that they were doing was stupid. Everything that they  _were_ doing; everything that they  _had_ done. It was all completely idiotic.

In all honesty, letting Antonio go was probably the first intelligent thing that he'd done in years...

Also the most difficult. The most painful... And now Francis stared down at his hands, staring down at the fingers clenched into fists. And began to slowly release. Wondering how long they had been like that. Perhaps since he'd resolved to do this, to completely sever the ties binding himself and Antonio together.

Maybe.

There was blood under his fingernails, blood that perfectly corresponded with the deep crescents cut into the palms of his hands. From where he'd clenched; the pain being the only thing holding him back from turning. Turning and running back and pulling Antonio into his arms... Stroking his hair and holding him close and promising him that he'd never leave him alone. He'd stand by his side forever, no matter  _what_... Of course, he'd never leave. He  _loved_  him...

He always loved him.

The streets were pretty empty at this time of day, since most people would be at work or school. Where he should be...

Not that it really mattered anymore, since he'd soon be long gone. Off living in London with Arthur. He vaguely wondered what his parents would do when they found out that he'd run off with their money; would they send someone after him? Or would they just ignore it, since at least he'd finally be completely out of their hair...?

He scowled at the thought, lifting his eyes to gaze into the shop windows that he was currently passing. A thrift store, little café, coffee shoppe... He sort of wanted to go inside and sit down, but then he'd probably end up getting questioned about why he wasn't in school. And he'd much rather not deal with nosy shop owners right now.

...It was annoying to wander around like this, though. Since his thoughts kept skipping about. One minute he'd be worrying over that idiotic Arthur, desperately wracking his mind in an attempt to think of places where he might be... The next minute, the image of Antonio's shattered expression would flash in front of his eyes.

Francis knew that he couldn't let it get to him. He had to remember why he was doing this. No matter how much he wanted to stay with Antonio. No matter how much it was tearing him apart... He had to let him go.

He had been selfish up until this point, letting Antonio follow him and Arthur into alcohol, sex... Just because he didn't want to lose the other boy. But Francis wasn't going to be selfish anymore. He was doing what was best for Antonio by severing their friendship... It was how the saying went, wasn't it? "If you love it, let it go." He was letting Antonio go.

Letting him go so he could finally realise his feelings for Lovina. Because Francis wanted both of them to be happy. Together.

And his internal thoughts were suddenly broken by the sound of his cell phone...

Which actually made him jump quite badly.

Francis hesitated to answer for a moment, as he needed to get his breathing under control. One he had, he slipped the slim phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID...

Unknown number.

He stared at the screen for a few moments. And then shrugged and flipped the phone open. "Bonjour? Francis Bonnefoy speaking..."

"Do you feel it entirely necessary to answer your bloody phone with that fucking frog language?"

And Francis almost dropped his phone at that. "Quo—Arthur?"

Okay, that had not been expected. Francis's attention immediately fixated on the other teenager's voice. "Arthur, where are you? Where have you  _been_? Are you okay? Are you hurt? You didn't pick another fight, did you?" He didn't  _sound_ hurt, but you never knew.

He heard a slight scoff on the other end of the phone. "Quit sounding so panicked, frog. I'm fine..." A pause, and then, "Mostly..."

"Mostly?"

"I sprained my ankle... Anyway," he hurried on before Francis could respond. "I need you to bring me a sewing kit."

... _What?_

"A sewing kit?" He wondered if he might have heard that wrong. Why in the world would Arthur want to bring him a  _sewing kit_?

"Yes, or is that too  _difficult_  for you?" And now he sounded slightly defensive. Which made Francis immediately relax. Because if Arthur was being his usual moody self, then that definitely meant that he was okay.

"Non. Non. But where  _are_  you?" And why did he want a sewing kit? And how had he sprained his ankle? Actually, that last one was probably explained by his bad habit of jumping out of second story windows.

There was a moment of silence after Francis's question, as if Arthur was considering where he really wanted to tell Francis where he was... Which of course just made the French boy incredibly curious. He was acting weird—which was saying something, since this was  _Arthur_ that he was talking about...

He continued to walk down the street, a little faster than before. He knew that there was a craft store nearby, and thankfully he'd thought to bring his wallet with him...

"I can't bring you anything if you don't tell me where you are," he reminded the other boy after a few moments of silence.

"Fuck off. I know that..." He sounded incredibly reluctant.

Where in the world was he? The suspense was killing him...

"Fine, you know those apartments near Greenview Park?"

"Oui." He'd been in quite a few of them over the years; they were popular with the twenty-something crowd, since they were decent apartments that didn't cost too much. And there was the craft store; he sped up slightly and then pushed the door open. A bell softly chiming to alert the shopkeeper of his presence. The woman behind the counter glanced up from her magazine for a moment, but then immediately returned to the pages when she saw that he was on his cell phone.

"I'm in apartment D402."

"Why are you there?" Sewing kit. Well, he'd found the aisle with knitting stuff... "Some nice girl decide to take you home and nurse you back to health?" Sewing machines...

"Not...exactly..."

Francis paused in his search. That tone had been  _interesting_ to say the least...

"Arthur, it would be much easier if you would stop being cryptic."

Another moment of silence. And then Arthur sighed irritably. "All right, fine. After I got off the phone with you, I might have wandered over to the park and fallen asleep because my ankle hurt too much to go anywhere..."

Francis sighed. Idiot. "You spent the entire night in a  _park_? Were you  _asking_ to get mugged, cher?"

"I can take care of myself, frog." He was sounding defensive again. "Anyway, so I fell asleep in the park and then when I woke... That fucking pig was there and practically  _forced_ me to come back to his apartment with him."

...Pig...Arthur couldn't mean...?

"A cop? Wait, you don't mean  _that_ cop..."

Arthur's silence was answer enough.

Oh, this was  _good_. This was very very  _good_. Francis chuckled as he leaned against one of the shelves, running his fingers along the rolls of multi-coloured thread. "Mm, that's not fair. Why didn't you call me earlier? This would have made things so much easier..."

"Fuck off, Francis. I don't care about your fucking libido."

Ooh, somebody sounded even more pissy than usual. Francis smirked in silent response as he switched the phone to his other ear and began walking down the aisle again. Sewing kit. Sewing kit. Ah, there they were... "Now, cher~" he cooed into the phone. "You know that I'd be willing to share with you."

"Fuck. Off."

This was  _very_  interesting. Normally Arthur would respond to that sort of remark with a combination of disgust and disinterest, leaning slightly one side or another depending on the situation. But, he actually sounded angry right now. The tone was just  _slightly_ different. Probably not noticeable to anyone who didn't know him as well as Francis did...

Francis wondered again at exactly why Arthur wanted a sewing kit so badly. Perhaps it had something to do with the adorable little cop?

...If it did, this could be a very very good thing.

Francis couldn't convince Arthur to stay here. He wanted Arthur to stay—hell, he knew better than anyone what the other kid was capable of... Arthur was incredibly intelligent; he could probably due absolutely anything that he wanted to do if he had the right motivation. He didn't  _deserve_  to live on the streets for the rest of his life.

Which Francis knew would happen if they ran away to London. Once the money ran out, they'd have to figure out some other way to live... Prostitution, most likely. Since he was already good at selling his body for what he needed...

He wanted Arthur to stay here, finish up school, turn his life around... But he knew that Arthur sure as hell wouldn't listen to him about something like that. Wouldn't listen to  _him_.  _But_...if he managed to get close to someone  _else_...

Francis really had no idea what would happen to  _him_ after that. If he lost Arthur, too. He'd already broken from Antonio and Gillian... It wasn't like there was anything else holding him here.

He could always go by himself, he supposed. Live in Paris... Ration his money.

Be alone.

"Are you still there, frog?"

Francis jumped slightly at the voice, almost dropping the sewing kit that he was currently holding in his hands. He'd forgotten where he was for a minute. "Oui. Oui. I was just thinking..."

Arthur snorted at that. "Don't hurt yourself, frog... Now hurry up and get here. He's at work right now and I'm not sure when he'll come back."

"Oui. Oui." He smiled as he began walking toward the register. "I'll see you soon, ami. Don't miss me too much~"

"Fuck off, frog." And he hung up.

Ah, Arthur. Always such a ray of sunshine.


	30. Chapter 30

It kind of felt like he was floating.

On a cloud. A soft, fluffy cloud. Floating far above the earth. Looking down on everyone... Waving at the little people. So tiny, almost like ants.

And he could see Lovi.  _Way_ down below. Staring up at him. Pouting with her hands on her hips.

So cute. Like a little tomato.

He tried to float down to her; he could see her lips moving, but he was too far away to hear what she was saying. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come any closer. She just kept moving farther and farther away.

Although, he could hear her now. Hear...

"—ard... If you fucking die... You better n—damnit, Antonio..."

She sounded upset. Was she crying? He wanted to fly closer to her. He wanted to hug her and say that he was sorry for being mean. He was so so sorry...

"Lovi..." It was hard to speak. And, he was suddenly moving even farther away. Floating backwards. He tried to fight against it, but...

"Antonio!"

His eyes suddenly jerked open.

And for a moment, he just felt completely confused. He was lying down on something that was rather hard and uncomfortable... And he was surrounded by white. Too much white. Somewhere unfamiliar.

And his body felt weird. Like, his limbs weren't actually connected to the rest of him. Or...something. He couldn't feel his arm. Like it wasn't there or... He moved his head—only an inch or so, because it felt strangely heavy. Yeah, there it was. All covered up with white... He stared at the white for a few minutes. And then... Oh, bandages.

Had he hurt himself? He didn't remember hurting himself.

And then he remembered. The mirror. He'd broken the mirror and gotten hurt and the principal and other teachers had come. So...he was in...

A hospital?

The boy squinted his eyes at the whiteness in front of him. Mm, it  _looked_  like a hospital room. At least, going off his limited knowledge of what actual hospital rooms looked like. He hadn't been in them very often.

Wait, if he was in the hospital, though... What about Madre? She was going to be so worried when she found out. And she'd probably try to take off from work. And Mamá couldn't worry about him and leave work. Then she'd just have to work  _more_ later...

He should get up and call her to let her know that he was oka—

"Fucking bastard!"

And that voice instantly jerked him to complete attention, causing him to shoot his head toward the opposite side of his bed.

Lovi.

She was standing beside his bed, her arms tightly crossed over her chest. Lips twisted downwards into a pout. And... And he could see that her cheeks were damp, lines running from the corners of her eyes. Like she'd been crying.

But Lovi didn't cry. Lovi  _never_ cried. Not even when they were little and she'd fall over and skin her knee and rip her dress. Then she'd scream and complain and tell him that it was all his fault—even if he hadn't been anywhere near her at the time. But, she didn't  _cry_...

"Lovi? Lovi, what's wrong?" He tried to sit up, but... He couldn't. He felt too weak and sleepy. And everything was hazy, especially his thoughts. Which were taking much too long to catch up with the rest of his body.

She just stared at him, her fingers twitching almost manically. Like she wasn't sure whether she should just stand there or if she should punch him. Or something.

"Wha—what's wrong? You're the one who's in the hospital, bastard!"

Hmm, that was true. But Antonio didn't really care about that fact. After all, he didn't feel hurt or anything, which he was pretty sure meant that he'd be completely okay...

"I'm okay, Lovi. I just hurt myself a little bit..."

"A  _little_  bit?" He hadn't expected her to suddenly yell that. It caused him to jerk back against the overly-white pillows, staring at her with wide eyes. "You fucking bastard!" Her fingers were still twitching, although now they had clenched into fists. "Fuck! You almost killed yourself! The doctors said..."

She stopped now, taking a deep breath. Calming herself. Antonio stared at her, confused.

But, it hadn't really been  _that_ bad? He felt fine now. A little sleepy, but that was just because he'd woken up from a siesta. Right?

He couldn't really remember much about what had happened, but... Almost died? That was...

"They had to give you an emergency blood transfusion, bastard."

And he just lay there, gaping up at her. "Qu—qué?"

She nodded, glancing away toward the wall as she took another deep breath. It was so strange to see her actually working on controlling her temper. "Your mother went out to get something to eat. She's a mess."

And Antonio felt his stomach sink at that. Madre already knew? "How—are you sure?"

He wasn't even entirely sure what he was asking about now. This was just too much...

The last thing that he could really remember in detail was Francis... Francis leaving. Saying those hurtful things... Antonio had felt so angry and hurt and confused when he said those things. He'd  _had_  to go take those feelings out on something. So he'd gone into the restroom and... Then there'd been shining pieces against the floor and red drops speckled everywhere and then everyone.

And now he was lying in a hospital bed and Lovi was standing right there.

Which... Why was Lovi even here? Didn't she hate him? Since he'd been so mean to her. Been so mean to her for such a long time...

"Por—por qué...?" He hesitated as her eyes moved from the wall to rest on his. Her eyes were always so intense. Filled with so many emotions, all battling against each other.

Right now, she looked scared and worried and hurt and confused and...

He couldn't stand this. He couldn't stand hurting her anymore. He'd been hurting her for so long. And she'd probably been feeling...almost exactly like how he felt when Francis said those words. When Francis said that they didn't want to be friends.

He had never wanted Lovi to feel like that. Never. Ever. She had always been one of the most people in the entire world to him. And he'd been hurting her. Making her feel all sad and broken and...

And he knew that he couldn't make it up to her. Not ever.

But, he could at least try to make things better.

He slowly began to slide his upper body up onto his pillows, attempting to use his arms to pull himself into a sitting position. Her eyes widened slightly at his movements. And she took an immediate step closer, hand hovering over him. As if she was considering pushing him back into place "What the hell are you doing, bast—"

"Lovi..." It hurt a little bit to move. His leg felt weird... "Lovi, lo siento. Lo siento..."

He knew it wasn't enough. Wasn't near enough. But he could start by saying sorry.

He'd try to make it up to her, even if it took forever and ever. He'd be a good friend for Lovi—the best friend. He'd make her happy. He'd do everything he could to make her happy again, so she'd never cry or feel sad.

She didn't seem to understand what he was trying to do, as she now set a hand against his arm in a probably-unconscious movement, pushing down slightly. "Quit moving around, bastard... And what the fuck are you saying sorry for? For getting hurt? You should tell your  _mom_ sorry for getting hurt. I don't care what the hell happens to you..."

Antonio blinked up at her. But...if she didn't really care what happened to him, then why was she here?

She was standing in his hospital room right now. That meant that she had to care about him at least a little bit, right?

He half-smiled at that realisation. Maybe that meant that Lovi wanted to be friends with him again. Maybe she didn't completely hate him for being so mean and stupid.

"Lo siento." He slowly moved his hand to rest on top of hers. Causing her to jump slightly in surprise. "Lo siento for being so mean to you at escuela. For ignoring you and..." He hesitated. For everything. "I just didn't want you to get hurt, Lovi. But I made you feel hurt anyway, didn't I?"

She looked shocked. Staring at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted.

And then she scowled, crossing her arms back across her chest as she glared at him with her usual annoyed expression. The expression that she often used against him. Ever since they were kids. He felt his heart soar a little at that expression. Not hatred or anything like that. "Whatever. Like I'd care about you ignoring me like a fucking dick."

"Lo siento, Lovi..." She squeezed her hand lightly, watching as her cheeks grew slightly pinkish.

"That sure as hell isn't fucking good enough."

He nodded in agreement. "I know."

She continued pouting, but she wasn't pulling her hand away. Instead, she seemed to be thinking while staring across the room at the blank, too-white wall.

"I'm not going to forgive you."

He nodded, feeling his heart sink a little bit at those words. Although, he expected it. Lovi  _shouldn't_  forgive him after all of the stupid things that he'd done.

"Not now, at least. Not for a long  _long_ time." She glanced at him for a moment, before her gaze returned to the wall. "I guess that I shouldn't expect too much out of you. You're an idiot after all."

"Sí." He'd agree with that.

"And...you  _are_  hurt." She sighed and then shook her head, now sliding her hand away. "And...that thing with Francis."

Antonio felt a fresh sting of pain slash through his heart at that. Francis... He couldn't...

"Oi, don't look so depressed, bastard." And he suddenly felt a sharp rap against his head, which forced his attention to return to the girl standing by his bed. "You two have been best friends for-fucking-ever. You sure as hell aren't going to just end it now."

...And for a minute, Antonio just stared at her in shock.

She was refusing to look at him. Pouting at the wall.

Didn't she hate Francis?

"You—but Francis said that he didn't want to be friends with me..."

Another rap against his head. This one much harder. Actually semi-painful.

"Don't give up so easily, bastard! It's obvious that he was just doing it for some stupid reason. God, are all guys this fucking stupid?"

"What do you—"

And he didn't get to finish that question, as the door to his room suddenly opened. Antonio was able to catch a momentary glimpse of dark curls and emerald green eyes. And then he was suddenly crushed as his mother threw herself at him, clutching his head against her chest as she sobbed at him in a mixture of Spanish and English...

And he caught one more glimpse of her standing by the door. Watching him for a moment. Before she turned and walked away.


	31. Chapter 31

He'd been kidnapped.

It was really the only word he could think of that would adequately describe what had just happened. He had been assaulted in his (Johnson's, but close enough) office and then kidnapped.

By this insane albino girl.

Who was currently dragging him down the sidewalk and chattering excitedly at about a million miles an hour about... "And we can go to  _Claude's_! They've got the most awesome ice cream in the entire universe!"

About ice cream, apparently.

And his opposite hand was currently being squeezed in a death grip by another girl—Feli, had Gill said?—a shorter brunette with her long hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Who kept making rather odd noises... It sort of sounded like she was saying "bay" under her breath for some reason.

He figured that it was probably easier to just accept it and move on.

"Ve~ gelato!" And she jumped a little bit at the word, jostling his arm rather violently. Which was incredibly painful when you took into account the fact that Gillian kept tugging and jerking at his other arm.

"Ja! We'll get awesome ice cream from  _Claude's_ and then we can...we can..."

"We can go get pasta, ve~!"

Leon was starting to wonder if there was something in the town's water supply that made them all act so strangely. Some sort of virus that was sucking all of the sanity from this town...

If there was, it had probably been released by his grandmother.

Scratch that. It would have  _definitely_  been released by his grandmother. Because it was something that she would do.

"But if we were going to get pasta..." Gillian continued dragging him forward, ignoring his attempts to wriggle his hand free. He didn't want to just rip his hand away from hers, since he didn't want to hurt her feelings. But he'd prefer keeping his arm in its socket. "Then we'd have to get it  _before_ we got awesome ice cream. And we're closer to  _Claude's_ than we are to anywhere that makes good pasta."

The two boys following them hadn't said anything up until this point. Not that Gillian had really given anyone else any opportunity to talk. Leon twisted his head to glance back at them, vaguely curious about what they were doing. The blond one—a very tall, rather stern-looking kid—looked rather exasperated by this whole situation. Now that he thought about it, Gillian had said that he was her brother, right? Couldn't remember his name...

If he was her brother, then that would definitely explain the exasperation.

And then the Asian boy next to him; he had a rather unreadable expression pasted over his face. And he was staring off into the distance as if this sort of random kidnapping was entirely normal.

"We also have to show Leon around! He doesn't know all of the awesome places yet!"

...And he let himself zone off again at that exclamation. As Gillian was now going off about random places that he'd never heard of... Discussing the "awesomeness" of certain parts of the town with the brunette girl who was now swinging their interconnected hands back and forth in an almost childish fashion.

And Gill's distraction allowed Leon's thoughts to drift back to his current "project".

Johnson had said that it might help to figure out what sort of things Arthur liked. Which he supposed made sense. And at least it gave him somewhere to start. Leon could see if they had anything in common, try to get the kid to soften up a little bit, make up for the fact that he'd totally freaked out at him earlier...

Which... He shouldn't have lost his temper like that. Leon knew that his reaction had been over-the-top. Probably scared the kid.

But, to be entirely honest... He was just so tired. Tired of trying to fix some kid who didn't want fixing, some kid who seemed to  _want_ to destroy his life... He was tired and he had no idea what to do and damn it, he'd only been in this town for a  _week_  and he was already feeling completely overwhelmed. He was  _already_  wondering if he should have even moved here.

He'd spent almost three hours last night sitting at his kitchen table on the phone with Chris. Not really wanting to talk; just wanting to listen to his best friend chat about his sister's upcoming judo match, Leon's cousin's latest injury... Neighbourhood gossip and pointless things like that...

He could just sit there, almost entirely silent. Gently running his fingers along the toy lobster's faded fabric, distractedly poking the stuffing back into the seams and attempting to pull some of the threads tighter. He knew the thing was falling apart; it was why he kept it in that box. He was scared that it was going to fall to pieces on him, but he didn't trust anyone else to fix it and he didn't know how and...

Almost three hours. Three hours on the phone. And then at the end, Chris had cleared his throat and slipped into a more serious tone. "You know, Leon. You can come back anytime you want. You can always stay with Claire and me for as long as you want... If you aren't happy..."

He hadn't really responded to that. After a few minutes, he'd said goodbye and hung up... And then just sat there—for at least another hour—just staring at the toy and thinking.

"Ve~ Ve~ Are you okay, Signor Leon?"

Leon definitely had not expected that. He'd almost completely forgotten where he was, actually. But that soft voice managed to jerk him right out of his thoughts. And his attention automatically fixated on the girl, who was staring up at him with a pair of slightly-teary amber-coloured eyes. Looking extremely worried.

Which immediately made him want to comfort her. Since she looked so cute and sad...

"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking."

And she immediately brightened at that, apparently accepting his response at face value. Which rather surprised him. "Ve~ what's your favourite kind of gelato? I like stracciamenta!"

...And Leon wasn't entirely sure if he was expected to know what that meant. He'd definitely noticed that this town was strangely diverse ethnically, but that didn't mean that he was expected to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of other cultures, right?

"I—I don't think I've ever had gelato..."

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

As the girl suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Which, in turn forced Leon to stop suddenly. Which then jerked Gillian to a stop. Which almost caused Leon's arm to be torn right out of its socket.

Which the little Italian girl didn't even seem to notice. As she just stared at him with a horrified expression, as if he'd just told her that he enjoyed kicking puppies on his days off.

"You—ve~! You've never had gelato?"

She sounded so incredibly horrified... It actually made him feel slightly uncomfortable, as if he actually  _had_ been caught kicking puppies. He glanced back toward the other boys, hoping for some sort of assistance. Instead, he just caught a glimpse of the blond boy smacking his palm against his forehead while shaking his head violently and mumbling in German.

"Um, I don't think so...?" he finally responded.

"Ve~!" That one had been louder than her others, loud enough that he winced and took a quick step back. "You have to have gelato!"

...Leon just blinked back at her in response. He could honestly say that he'd never met someone who apparently felt this strongly about food.

It was apparently something that she felt very strongly about, as she now began to drag him in  _another_ direction. Unfortunately, ignoring the fact that Gillian wasn't following and she happened to be clinging to his other arm.

He was starting to feel like a tug-of-war rope.

"Excuse me..." And Feli stopped at that voice coming from behind them. The Asian boy who hadn't spoken up until this point. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, but then continued. "Why don't you let Leon-san choose where he'd like to go? Since he just moved here, maybe there's somewhere specific that he'd like to go?"

...Leon liked this kid. That was probably one of the sanest things that had been said around him since he'd moved to this town.

"Yeah, Leon!" Not that the momentary glimpse of normality lasted long, as Gillian started bouncing excitedly in place. "You could pick somewhere that we could go! Like the movies or the zoo or...or...or we could go on a road trip!"

...Um...

"Yeah!" She interrupted him before he even had the chance to speak. "We should totally go on an awesome road trip! We could visit Uncle Fritz!"

He had no idea who that was. And again, didn't have the chance to respond before another voice cut him off. This one coming from the blond boy—her brother. "Gillian..." He had a surprisingly commanding voice, considering the fact that he was probably even younger than Gillian. "You know that we can't do that. Uncle Fritz lives eight hours away..."

"He'd totally be fine with us visiting him, though! And we haven't seen him in  _forever_! And besides, Big—" And she suddenly cut herself off. Eyes widening in slight horror as she suddenly jerked to stare up at him.

She looked like she'd just realised that she'd almost spilled some huge secret. An expression which took him by complete surprise. As he hadn't even been following their discussion, since he had no idea who this 'Uncle Fritz' was... Which, of course, meant that the most intelligent response he could think of was an idiotic-sounding, "Huh?"

"I mean..." And the girl bit down on her bottom lip as she thought; her expression that of someone who was attempting to figure out something to say that wouldn't reveal too much about whatever she was worried about revealing... "I mean, you know... We can't take him to visit  _her_ , since she's busy with unawesome stuff and things... So he needs to meet  _someone_  awesome today."

...Leon was completely not following this conversation. Which probably meant that he should at least attempt to take control of the situation in this rare moment of peace. After all, he was the adult here, right?

...That was probably the most terrifying thought that he'd had in quite a while.

"Why don't we just go to a...a mall or something like that?" That was safe. There were lots of stores and things that would keep a bunch of teenagers amused.

And he could even start thinking about how to implement Johnson's earlier advice... If he could figure out what sorts of things Arthur liked, he may be able to break past that hard, defensive outer shell and help him.

He could at least start with the music thing, although he'd probably have to do a little more detective work later if he  _really_ wanted to get the kid to like him.

Leon supposed that the easiest way to find out what sort of things the kid liked would be to go to his house and  _ask_ his family. Really, that would probably be the best thing to do in  _any_  case. Since he could also find out exactly what had happened in that house, get an idea about what sort of family life Arthur was dealing with and had grown up with...

He'd deal with that later, though. For now, he supposed that he could buy the kid some CD's, books, movies... That sort of thing.

After all, he'd been planning on doing that anyway. Since the last thing that he wanted was for a bored, angry, destructive teenager to be stuck alone in his apartment for however long it took for his ankle to heal. He probably wouldn't  _have_ an apartment by the end of the week if he let  _that_ happen.

And where better to buy those sorts of things than a mall?

...Plus...

"Then let's go to the awesome mall!" He was pulled off-balance again by the albino, who was now attempting to skip. While dragging him. Failing rather miserably. "Let's go! We can totally play in the arcade too! Since they have that new zombie shooter game that we haven't tried yet!"

Okay, so this girl was probably absolutely insane and rather more excitable than he was used to...

But, it was actually kind of nice to be around people like this.

Extremely weird and probably a bad indication of his mental state at the moment, but nice...


	32. Chapter 32

Sometimes Arthur forgot just how much he disliked Francis. He wasn't sure  _how_ he managed to forget that rather important fact of life, but he apparently somehow managed it occasionally.

"Bonjour, cher! So this is the home of our lovely little officer?" Francis didn't bother giving Arthur an opportunity to answer before he pushed his way inside, eyes immediately darting around the room in interest. Taking everything in as quickly as possible.

The pig was probably going to flip when he found out that Arthur had told Francis where he lived... Not that Arthur  _cared_ , but... Still.

"Took you long enough." And he probably should attempt to kick him out, but if there was one thing that Arthur knew, it was that Francis was a stubborn son of a bitch. And there was no way that he was going to leave this apartment until he felt like leaving.

Which judging by his expression, wasn't going to be for a long time.

"Well, it took longer since I had to  _walk_ here, cher." He flashed Arthur a flirtatious smile as he crossed he room and then dropped the canvas bag that he'd been carrying onto the coffee table, which had already been covered by an assortment of books. "And I had to carry your  _excruciatingly_  heavy sewing kit with me."

Yes,  _excruciatingly_ heavy... Arthur rolled his eyes at the exaggeration, as he began to make his way back toward the kitchen, his movements clumsy on the still unfamiliar crutches. "Belt up, frog. And why the hell did you  _walk_ here? The cops finally confiscate your car?"

"Mm," Francis chuckled as he followed the other boy, squeezing past him so he could enter the kitchen first. "Not exactly. Although a cop  _did_ take her... Non, I ran into our cher rookie while he was looking for a new vehicle—you should have seen the  _monstrosity_  that he was considering buying; it would have made you weep... Well, I couldn't very well let him risk his pretty little head in that sort of death trap, so I offered him my own vehicle as a welcoming gift."

And Arthur almost dropped both of his crutches at that; thankfully he managed to catch them before he fell straight to the floor... "You  _what_? You gave away your bloody  _car_?"

"I hated that car anyway." And he just waved the remark away as he made his way to the refrigerator. "It's not like we'll need it in London, oui? And he's attractive. I like giving presents to attractive people..." And now he was rummaging through his refrigerator. "He's very neat for a bachelor, non?"

Arthur had always known that Francis was mentally unbalanced, but he hadn't realised that he was  _this_ bad.

"That thing was probably worth more than this entire building—"

"And it was a gift from my  _parents_..." And now Francis turned, sending him an uncharacteristically serious glare.

Which immediately shut him up.

For the most part, Francis was a pretty even-tempered person. He never really got seriously angry or upset.  _Except_  when his parents were brought up...and even then, he wouldn't start yelling or anything. Instead, he'd get very quiet and very serious in a rather unnerving way, especially for someone who was used to his constant teasing and flirting.

That uncharacteristic glare was gone in a matter of moments, though, as Francis turned and his eyes settled on the table.

"Comme, c'est mignon!"

And he laid eyes on the toy lobster.

He had picked it up before Arthur had  _any_  chance to stop him and was now examining it, an amused smile stretching over his lips as he looked it over. "So,  _this_  is what you needed the sewing kit for! How sweet! You managed to make yourself a new friend!"

Arthur immediately scowled at  _that_ assumption. "No," he snatched the lobster from the other boy's hands, still being careful that it didn't get anymore damaged than it already was... "I'm only fixing it because he's a bloody pig who is obviously too  _stupid_ to know how to sew on his own."

...Okay, that sounded like a horrible excuse even to  _him_.

...So maybe it  _might_  have something to do with the fact that the git was letting him stay with him. Maybe a tiny bit of a thank you. But only a tiny bit...

Francis just stared at him for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes, walking back into the living room. "Of course, mon cher. Of course. Where's his bedroom?"

"Why the fuck do you need to know where his  _bedroom_  is?" Arthur immediately attempted to follow as quickly as possible, which really wasn't very quickly, as he was not only attempting to manoeuvre around on bloody crutches, but he was also carrying the toy lobster.

"Few things can tell you more about a person than what they keep in their bedroom, mon cher. The colours of their bed sheets, the pictures on their walls, the  _toys_  hidden in the back of their closet..." He walked toward one of the closed doors—the one that Arthur happened to know  _did_ lead to Leon's room—and immediately pushed it open. "Ah, here we go!"

"Are you planning on hiding in there until he comes home, then?" Wasn't worth arguing with him about. So Arthur instead dropped back into his usual place on the couch as he watched his companion look inside the bedroom, still remaining in the doorway for some reason.

"Mm, non... It would be rude of me to enter into someone's bedroom before I have been invited." And he suddenly shut the door without another word, twirling around in an overly-flamboyant manner. As if he thought he was a bloody ballerina or something.

"Bloody git." And Arthur was just going to start trying to fixing this fucking toy now. If he didn't, he'd probably end up decking the idiot...

Francis had no idea how to remain silent for any period of time, however. "It's very bare, non? Hardly any personal effects..."

"Probably hasn't had a chance to unpack them yet. He just moved here, after all."

Francis nodded once in silent agreement. As he continued to observe the room's sparse furnishings. "Still, it's very bare..."

Arthur didn't bother responding, as he instead grabbed Francis's canvas bag and dug around inside for a new moments. Fingers brushing against a few things that  _definitely_  weren't a sewing kit. Or bottles of alcohol for that matter. Seriously, if Francis was going to bother bringing lube and condoms with him, he might as well bring some of that shitty ridiculously-expensive wine too.

The sewing kit was at least a nice one, filled with threads of practically any colour imaginable, scraps of cloth of various textures and colours... "Surprise, surprise, looks like you  _are_ capable of doing something right."

"I will take that as a 'thank you', mon ami." He now settled himself on the arm of the couch, watching as Arthur removed a spool of reddish-brown thread from inside the box and began to thread his needle. "So, explain what exactly happened, cher. You disappeared for so long; I was starting to think that you'd decided to go on to London without me."

Arthur snorted, attention entirely fixated on the plush toy as he carefully lined up the fabric. "You have the money, git. I can't go anywhere without you..."

There was a momentary pause at that remark, enough that Arthur glanced up toward the other boy. Who immediately scoffed at his look and threw his arm over the back of the couch in a move that changed the expression to an irritated glare. "So that is all I am to you, mon ami? Maybe I should just stay here and leave you to figure out how to survive in London—without a  _penny_  to your name—all by yourself. Or I could always just take the money and go to Paris. A much more beautiful city than London, anyway."

Arthur scowled back. He'd let the comment about Paris being more beautiful city slide, since  _obviously_ the frog had no idea what he was talking about. "Shut the fuck up, frog. You want out just as badly as I do."

"Mm." And now Francis leaned over and rested his head against Arthur's shoulder, ignoring the other boy's immediate attempts to shrug him off. "Perhaps not. Our pretty little cop seems like the type who enjoys playing hard-to-get, after all..."

That earned him a very harsh jab in the side, which also had the added bonus of making him move. Win, win. "Damn it, Francis. You can fuck the entire city of London if you fucking want. We're leaving this bloody town as soon as possible..."

And the git actually had the nerve to pout at him, rubbing at his side with an injured expression. "You are so cruel, mon ami. It is impossible to just  _replace_  someone like that, even if I could make sweet l'amour to an entire city."

"If anyone could, it would be you."

And that earned him—what was  _almost_ a smirk. Although something about it seemed a little off... But Arthur didn't have time to puzzle over that, as Francis suddenly jumped up from his seat and leaned over to ruffle his hair playfully. "Perhaps, oui. Why don't I make dinner? Since the kitchen is still in one piece, I assume that you haven't made yourself anything today. And I'm sure that our cher will be hungry when he returns home from work."

Arthur almost poked himself in the finger with the needle when he turned to glare at the other teenager. "My cooking is perfectly fine, frog. I just haven't felt like trying to cook while on these bloody crutches."

"Thank God for those crutches then." He'd already made his way back into the kitchen and Arthur could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, the refrigerator door opening as well. Before he called, "Does your maman know where you are?"

"Yes..." And this time he actually  _did_ stab his finger, thankfully not deep enough to bleed, although he hurriedly jerked it away from the cloth just in case. "Fucking pig called them. Apparently she said that it was 'fine' if I stayed here until I was healed."

"So he could be putting up with you for quite a while, poor thing."

Arthur immediately scowled down toward his wrapped foot at that remark. Before hissing out an annoyed, "Fuck that. I'll be fine in a couple days and then we're getting out of here."

And Arthur was a little surprised when he heard the sounds in the kitchen suddenly pause for a long moment. A very long moment, as if the other wanted to say something. But then they started again without him having responded.

Which was definitely abnormal... Since Francis never let an opportunity to verbally jab at Arthur go by.

Not that he  _cared_.

But then again, Arthur was starting to get the feeling that something about Francis was a little  _off_.He was acting almost the same as usual, the same teasing remarks and all that. But something was just a little different...

"Hey, did something happen, frog?" And he was actually surprised when the words suddenly slipped out. As he definitely hadn't planned on asking that—and he actually sounded  _concerned_...

What the hell?

And he heard something fall at that. Something metal, it sounded like. Thank God it wasn't something breakable; he didn't especially want to see Leon get angry again...

And then Francis laughed, the noise so forced that it actually sounded slightly painful. "Something happened? Non, of course not. Everything's fine..."

Okay, something had definitely happened. And that something must have been really bad, since Francis was usually an amazing liar—you kind of had to be if you were going to sleep around like he did...

But Arthur wasn't about to question him. Since he knew that it wouldn't do any good. If Francis didn't want to tell him, then he wasn't going to tell him.

So, instead, he returned his attention to the toy held carefully in his hands. Which was already looking significantly better. Although if he  _really_ wanted to fix it, he'd probably have to get completely new fabric and stuffing and practically remake it from scratch... Which he rather doubted Leon would appreciate, since the thing was apparently incredibly important to him. For some reason...

And he was suddenly jerked out of his thoughts by sounds from outside. The sound of footsteps walking down the hallway, stopping in front of the door, the doorknob turned...

Shit, he was back earlier than Arthur had expected. He'd sort of hoped that the pig would decide to come back super late tonight. Late enough that Francis would get bored and decide to go home.

As unlikely as that actually was...

Of course, what made it worse was the fact that Francis apparently now had ears like a fucking bat. As he somehow managed to hear the sounds from outside and decided to suddenly appear out of  _nowhere_ , standing right beside the door.

And probably gave the guy a heart attack when he pushed it open. And was immediately greeted by a...

"Bonjour, mon cher! How was work?" Arthur had just enough time to see Leon's eyes widen in complete confusion and shock before Francis rose onto his tip toes and yanked down on the other male's collar, pressing their lips together for a few moments before he pulled away. "I just started dinner, so make yourself comfortable. Then you'll have to tell us all about your day, oui?"

And then he was gone, hurrying back into the kitchen before Leon had any chance at recovering.

Leaving  _Arthur_ to deal with his reaction—which would come once he managed to figure out what the  _hell_  had just happened.

Bloody French  _coward_.


	33. Chapter 33

That girl was almost as exhausting as his grandmother.

Which was really saying something, since his grandmother was the most exhausting and insane person that Leon had ever met. Often leading to questions of how in the  _world_ he could possibly be related to her. Since he definitely was entirely sane.

Anyway, that was a question that he suspected would never be answered. So, about today... Well, they'd gone to the mall. And, almost as soon as they stepped through the front doors, the others—Kiku, Ludwig, and Feliciana—had immediately disappeared. Leaving him  _alone_  with a very excited Gillian who was determined that she show him absolutely  _everything_ in the entire building.

Thank God it wasn't a very large mall.

He'd felt like a parent being dragged around by a hyperactive child. Which...he was only  _twenty_. He definitely shouldn't be dealing with that sort of feeling at this point in his life.

It had been kind of fun, though. If he wanted to be completely honest with himself. And actually rather helpful, since he didn't know his way around yet and Gillian much knewpractically everything that there was to know about this town. She'd gone on about who owned which store and what was inside and things like that...

All while squeezing his hand in a death group and swinging their arms back and forth. And Leon knewthat he had gotten plenty of weird looks from people because of that, but there wasn't much that he could do about it.

So, he'd managed to live through his mall tour... Gill had even dragged him into an entertainment store after a while, after she saw Kiku standing inside and looking over a selection of DVDs. Which had given Leon a chance to search their collection of CDs for something that Arthur might like.

Not that he'd really had any idea of what Arthur would actually enjoy, so he'd just ended up buying a bunch of random stuff in the hope that the kid would like at least a few of them. Including CDs of bands that he remembered seeing on the teenager's shirts.

It'd been three more hours before they'd found Feliciana and Ludwig up in the food court. Feliciana had been gorging herself on pasta while Ludwig just kind of looked on with resignation. Then they had walked around for another hour before they managed to convince Gillian that it was time to leave. And even  _that_  had required him promising that they could hang out some other time.

Needless to say, he was mentally—and somewhat physically—exhausted by the time he made it to his apartment. And was not looking forward to dealing with a probably cranky Arthur Kirkland. He'd have to make dinner, too... Hopefully the kid would be okay with something simple; really, he should have just gone through a drive-through.

Probably the last thing that Leon expected at that exact moment was to hear a very familiar, very unwelcome, very  _French_ voice call out to him, as soon as he'd opened the door, "Bonjour, mon cher! How was work?"

He probably jumped about a foot at that. Completely startled. And then there was just enough time for him to think 'What the  _hell_?' before a set of warm fingers twisted around the collar of his shirt and yanked his head down. And then, before he could respond to  _that_ , his mouth was suddenly covered by a pair of surprisingly-soft lips.

Which was apparently the last straw for his already abused and exhausted brain, as it completely shut down in the next few moments. So that he just barely registered the feel of the warmth moving away and the sound of the voice continuing with an amused "I just started dinner, so make yourself comfortable. Then you'll have to tell us all about your day, oui?"

And then he skipped away, humming something that Leon may have been able to identify if his brain hadn't just shut down.

What the  _hell_  was he doing here? How had he  _found_  him?

Actually, that was a stupid question. How  _else_ would he have found him? Arthur must have invited him here...

For a moment, he just remained in the doorway; trying to force his mind to catch up to what had just happened... Something smelled really nice.

Of course, that was the next thought that managed to break through his mind. Something smelled absolutely  _incredible_.

His feet seemed to move completely independently at that point, carrying him inside the living room and closer to the glorious smell. And he was distantly aware of the sound of his bag thumping down against the carpet.

"Wha—what's that—how did—?" He wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to ask. What is that incredible smell? What are you doing in my house?

His eyes now moved toward the boy sitting on his couch, staring up at him with an expression that almost looked slightly worried. And then Leon's eyes settled on the red item sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Something red.

And now he jerked forward, hurrying toward the table and instinctively grabbing at the toy, jerking back from the teenager before he did anything to it. Although, he may have already done something, because it looked differentnow...

"What did you do? I thought I told you not to touch this!" What had he done? Leon now stared at the toy, keeping it as far away from the other as possible as he searched for any damage.

And realised that there wasn't any...at all.

He'd  _fixed_  it. The seams were stitched, the stuffing pushed back inside. All of the damage that Leon had inflicted on the toy when he was a child was gone. It looked—not brand-new, but less like it was about to fall apart at any moment.

"The stupid thing probably wouldn't have lasted longer than a year, even in that stupid box." And now Arthur sounded defensive. His arms were crossed over his chest is an irritated posture as he glared at the other male. "So, I fixed it. But just because you're obviously too stupid to know how to fix anything like that. It's not like it's even that difficult..."

Leon just proceeded to stare at him, unsure how to respond. His fingers reflexively clenching and unclenching around the soft fabric. Had Arthur just...actually tried to do something  _nice_  for him?

His mind was refusing to believe it. Although, after everything else that had happened today... First, he gets kidnapped by an insane albino teenager and dragged around a shopping mall for hours. Then, he comes back home to his apartment and is sexually assaulted by some teenager who apparently thinks it's completely acceptable to give away  _cars_ to random strangers. And now, his current, incredibly bad-tempered housemate fixed up Ned...

He had no idea what to do. No idea what to do, how to respond...

"I have finished the first course!" Which was why Leon actually felt relieved when that voice cut into his thoughts. Even if the voice did belong to a certain French boy who should  _not_ be in his apartment right now. A certain French boy who now flounced out of his kitchen, looking incredibly proud of himself. "I used up the leftover soup left in your refrigerator, though, cher. I hope you don't mind. It was extremely good soup, actually. I only added a few spices and things to change the flavour a bit... Did you make it?"

Out of all of the people in this town, Leon was having the hardest time figuring out how to respond to this kid. He'd given him a  _car_ , for God's sake... And was constantly flirting with him. And had kissed him _twice_  thus far. And was now apparently making him dinner—in  _his_  apartment.

It took him a few moments before he realised that the boy had asked him a question. "Y—yes..." And he was going to end up squeezing all of the stuffing out of Ned in the next few minutes if he wasn't careful. Going to squeeze the stuffing—except he wouldn't, really. Since Arthur had fixed him...

"Merveilleux! So there is no reason at all for Arthur to have to cook while he is here!"

"Shove it, frog." Leon jumped slightly at that remark. He'd almost completely forgotten about the other occupant of the room for a few minutes there. The British boy, who was still scowling at the two of them with his arms crossed over his chest and uninjured leg settled on the coffee table. Leon wanted to tell him to put his feet down, but he doubted that he'd listen to anything he said, so...

"Come..." And he was startled, yet again, when a hand suddenly slipped into his and began gently leading him toward the kitchen. The voice surprisingly soft and soothing. "Just ignore him and eat. You'll feel better after you eat."

He was settled into a chair soon after that and then a bowl was pushed in front of him. Filled almost to the brim with a vegetable soup that he somewhat recognised, although it smelled even better than it had when he made it.

"If I'd had more time, I would have made you some of my croissants." And Francis was leaning over his shoulder, speaking right into his ear with a weird slightly-flirtatious, slightly-calming tone. "They are _magnifique_ , if I do say so myself. But I suppose that will have to wait for another time..."

Leon blinked once.  _Another_  time? Since when was there going to be  _another_ time?

"Arthur, cher!" Not that he would have had any time to actually voice that question, as Francis was suddenly gone, flitting back into the living room. Presumably to get his friend-boyfriend-whatever they were to each other. Leon hadn't quite figured that out yet.

Leaving him just staring at the bowl in front of him, feeling rather overwhelmed by...well, pretty much the whole day. Whole day, whole week, if you wanted to be specific. This whole move, which he never would have imagined would be so stressful and exhausting and everything-else.

And he was still squeezing Ned...

The movement was almost completely instinctual by this point. After spending most of his childhood clinging to the toy... How long had he had it? Sixteen years? Seventeen years? He'd only put it in the box recently, when he was seventeen and realised that it'd probably end up completely falling apart if he didn't put it into some sort of protective storage.

He felt slightly childish clinging to it, but at the same time... It was the only thing that he had left of his dad. This toy and a few photos in his photo album. And...

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the fact that Arthur had fixed it. He must have done it in an attempt to be nice, but...he hadn't  _asked_  for him to fix it. And it felt different. Kind of weird... Almost like when his dad had first given the toy to him. After being fixed for probably the millionth time in its existence.

"You haven't eaten any of it yet? Don't you like it?" The French-accented voice brought back to the real world again. He looked up, to see Arthur was standing in the doorway on his crutches and scowling at the French boy. Who skipped across the room and then dropped into the seat beside Leon. "If you want something else, then feel free to ask. I could go out shopping for more supplies if you—"

"No, it's fine..." Leon hurriedly cut him off before he could finish. Of course, someone was nice enough to make dinner for him and he was going to be rude and not even eat what they'd made... Even if the person hadn't technically been invited into his house, that still wasn't polite.

And now he heard a soft snort from behind that was almost immediately followed by the click-clacking of the crutches against the tiled floor. Arthur walking toward the table and taking a seat, glaring at Francis, who was completely ignoring him.

"Sorry, I was just thinking." Wasn't he going to give Arthur something to eat, too? And himself. Now he felt not only rude for not eating, but also rude for being the only person at the table with food.

Not that Francis seemed to care, as he just leaned closer and then gently ran his fingers over the lobster toy's fabric, smiling slightly. "This is a very cute toy. Very old too, oui? And very precious to you?"

"Yes..."

"A family gift?" He now finally stood, walking over to the stove and dishing out two more bowls as he hummed softly to himself. And then walked back over and set one and a spoon in front of Arthur, who glared at the offering for a moment before digging in without another word.

"Yes..." And now the teenager settled himself back at Leon's side. Beginning to eat, much more slowly than Arthur. "My dad gave it to me."

"Do you have family here?" And the kid looked completely calm and poised and wasn't sending him any flirtatious grins or evil smirks or anything. This almost felt like a normal family dinner. Which was...an odd sensation to say the least.

Besides the fact that a foot was touching his. But that didn't necessarily mean anything. Francis's facial expression wasn't revealing anything. "I feel like I've heard your last name before."

"My grandmother lives here." He assumed the kid knew her. He doubted that anyone could live in the same town as her and not know her... Since she was insane and everything.

Actually, it was a bit odd that nobody had really said anything to him yet about being related to her.

"Really?" And now Arthur spoke up for the first time in a while, his bowl of soup already completely empty and the sides scraped clean with his spoon. "You never said anything about having a grandmother living here. Who the hell is she?"

"You didn't ask." Like he'd ever willing give out that information. "Michelle Kennedy. She's my grandmother on my father's side."

And the reaction that he received after that was rather unexpected. As Arthur just stared at him, as if the name meant absolutely nothing to him. While Francis froze, his soup spoon lifted halfway to his mouth, stared at him for a moment...

And then burst into laughter.

Which apparently irritated Arthur, as the glare that he sent the other boy really should have been hot enough to melt the spoon right out of his hand. "What the bloody hell is so funny? I've never heard of anyone named Michelle Kennedy."

Leon was receiving more and more evidence that this town was completely insane. Since yes, his grandmother was nuts, but that was no reason to suddenly burst into laughter at just her name. And Francis just  _kept_  laughing for a few minutes before he finally managed to control himself.

After a while, he was able to choke out "Big Mike" before dissolving into laughter again.

And was answered by the sound of Arthur's spoon hitting the side of the bowl, the side of the table, and then the floor. As the boy's eyes settled on him, his expression almost panicked...

What in the world was  _wrong_ with this town?


	34. Chapter 34

Antonio was slowly coming to the realisation that he didn't really understand Lovina. Even after their years and years of friendship...

He'd known her for years and yet he never would have imagined that she would  _return_ to his room after her departure earlier this afternoon. She knew that he was going to be okay, after all, so why would she feel the need to come  _back_? He couldn't imagine that she  _enjoyed_  spending her afternoon stuck with him in a hospital room.

"Got any twos?"

"Um..." Antonio looked over the cards held in his slightly less-bandaged hand and then shook his head. "No, go fish."

It was nice having her here, though. Even if Antonio wasn't entirely sure  _why_ she was here, sitting cross-legged on the opposite end of his bed and scowling down at her Go Fish cards. He'd missed her. He'd really really missed her...

Maybe this was a sign that things  _could_  go back to the way they were before. With him and Lovi and Gill and Francis and Arthur and everyone all being friends.

Maybe... Maybe he could figure it out. Once he was out of the hospital, he'd go and talk to Francis and fix whatever was wrong. Because he didn't want to lose one of his best friends like that...

"Oi, bastard! It's your turn!"

And he'd zoned out... Antonio hurriedly returned his attention to the game, glancing over his cards again while simultaneously flashing Lovi an apologetic smile. "Lo siento, Lovi. Do you have any sixes?"

For a moment, the girl just sat there, irritably glaring down at her cards. And then she threw a pair toward him. "How the hell are you winning when you aren't even paying attention to the game, damn it?"

Antonio shrugged, setting the cards onto the bed with the two that he'd held in his own hand. "No sé. Do you not want me to win? We could start a new game?" He didn't want Lovi to get angry with him over something silly like a card game, not when he was trying to make her happy again.

"No." She glared down at her cards again before sighing and dropping them onto the sheets. "Let's do something else. I'm getting bored."

Antonio immediately nodded, dropping his own cards on top of Lovina's. He wasn't sure what else they could do, especially since he knew that she'd have to leave soon. Visiting hours probably wouldn't last much longer.

Mamá had already left, after almost an entire hour of him reassuring her that he'd be okay, that he'd heal right up and she shouldn't worry about him. Poor Mamá. She was already troubled by too many things and she worked too much; she didn't need something like  _this_  to happen and make things worse. He'd begged her to go home and get some sleep. Hopefully she  _could_ sleep.

"Nonno should be coming soon." Antonio lifted his head at Lovina's voice, a little surprised by the remark. She must have been thinking the same thing he was. "He and Feli. Apparently she's been out with Kiku and the potato bastards today."

"How is she?" It felt strange to be asking these sorts of questions, to actually have to  _ask_ how Feliciana was. And Gill. How was Gill? He'd missed her so much...

"Stupid," she shifted her position so that one of her legs was now dangling off the bed. "Stupid and hanging off of the potato bastard, as always."

Typical Lovina response. She'd always hide her true feeling behind insults and foul language; it was actually nice to hear those insults again. One of the things about Lovina that hadn't changed... One of the few things that hadn't changed. Since she seemed so much sadder and quieter now...

And she also looked a lot thinner, although it was hard to tell  _how_ much thinner, since she was currently wearing a loose T-shirt over baggy sweatpants. Which was also different, since Lovina usually was very concerned about clothing and fashion and those sorts of things...

"Do you want the rest of my dinner?" And she seemed a little surprised by the question, as she just blinked back at him in response. He hurriedly continued, "I didn't eat the peaches, and you can have the roll, too. You must be hungry, right?"

She hesitated, glancing toward the tray that they'd pushed aside when they decided to start playing cards. Then she shook her head, "No, knowing Feli, she'll probably end up making too much food like she _always_ does and if I don't eat it, then she'll cry and run to the potato bastard and I'll have to make sure that the pervert keeps his hands off of her."

Antonio pouted. "But, Lovi..."

Although he stopped when she flashed him an annoyed glare. He didn't want Lovi to get angry with him, not when he was trying to make up for being mean to her and making her upset. Even if she did look thinner and sicklier and he really just wanted to hug her forever.

"Ve~ sorella!"

And his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden voice calling from outside. Which was soon accompanied by Feli bouncing into the room, looking just as adorable as ever.

"Antonio!" Just as affectionate as ever, too, apparently. As seen when she  _attacked_ him with a massive hug the moment she set eyes on him. "Ve~ are you okay, Antonio? The principal said on the big loudspeaker thing that you got hurt and had to go to the hospital!" She was nuzzling her face into his chest, earning a rather disgusted glare from her sister.

He immediately hugged her back, smiling brightly. Feli was so cute~ Not as cute as Lovi, but still really really cute~ "Don't worry, Feli! I just got a little bit cut up, but I'll heal up and then I can come back to school and help Mamá on the farm again!"

He heard Lovina snort at that, but she apparently decided that it wasn't worth responding to his statement. Instead, she glanced toward the doorway with a slight frown. "Where's Nonno?"

Feliciana released Antonio at that, glancing back toward the doorway with a confused expression, but then she smiled again. "Ve~ I think he wanted to talk with some of the pretty nurses. He should be coming soon! He said he wanted to see big brother Antonio too!"

And Antonio felt a thrill of happiness spread through his body at that. Big brother Antonio. It'd been a long time since Feli had called him that.

Although that happy moment disappeared pretty quickly, as Lovi scowled and jumped off of his bed with a quick hop. "Ugh, seriously? What is with him and being a creepy old perv? ...Seriously, I'm going to go kick his ass. That'll teach him."

And she started walking toward the door, apparently to do exactly that. While Feliciana just stared after her, seemingly too shocked to react for a moment. Instead, she just watched as her sister stomped out into the hallway, and then she finally jumped up to follow her once she had disappeared from sight. "Ve~ Wait! Sorella! You can't do that!"

Leaving Antonio alone in the hospital room. For the first time since he'd woken up, actually.

...Lovi wouldn't  _really_ beat up her abuelo, right?

He didn't think so.

Not that there was much he could do about it right now, since he wasn't really supposed to move or anything. The nurses had told him that he'd need to be careful about putting unnecessary strain on his leg until the wound had time to completely heal...

He sighed as he allowed his head to fall back against his pillow and began to stare up at the ceiling, trying to keep from thinking.

Which was practically an impossible task; it was hard  _not_  to think right now. As his thoughts kept returning to Francis and Lovi and his mamá. He knew that there had to be a reason why Francis had told him that he didn't want to see him again. Something that would make sense and explain his friend's sudden change. Something that Francis was worried about, maybe.

He'd puzzle over that and then his thoughts would eventually switch to concern over Lovina. He had to make everything up to her somehow—and now he was worried over the fact that she'd lost weight. Lost weight and looked weaker...sicklier. Had she gotten sick? What if she'd gotten sick and he hadn't noticed because he was trying so hard to stay with Francis? To keep him from being alone... And instead of taking care of Lovi, he'd been with all of those girls whose names he couldn't even remember. The girls who he'd never even liked all that much. Girls who were nothing like Lovi.

And then his mamá... This whole mess had just made her more worried when she was already overly-stressed by work and money and now this whole deal with his father. Antonio didn't want to be a burden on her. He wanted to help Mamá, not make things more difficult for her.

"You really messed yourself up, huh?"

And Antonio quite possibly lost a few decades off the end of his life at that incredibly startling remark. He jumped, managing to jerk his leg into one of the bars on the side of the bed, which sent a jolt of pain through his body.

Ow~

"Not very awesome..."

His eyes were tearing up, so he couldn't actually watch as Gillian approached the bed, although he could hear her footsteps and then felt as the bed sunk down with another body's weight.

Gillian...

Gillian was here? Why? She was one of the last people that he would have expected to come visit him. After how he'd treated her...

And she hadn't spoken yet. Instead, she just sat on the bed and stared out the open door with a mostly-blank expression.

He didn't want to break into her thoughts, but after a minute he couldn't stand the silence. "Gill—?"

"I made a new friend." She didn't look at him; instead, she just sat there and distractedly kicked her feet back and forth. An uncharacteristic frown tugging her lips downwards. "We went to the mall today, since he just moved here, with Luddy and Feli and Kiku."

He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to say to that. "That's...nice." At least—at least she'd managed to find a new friend, since he and Francis had abandoned her and everything.

After all, he didn't deserve to be friends with her after the way that he'd treated her...

Although—although he'd sort of been hoping, thinking that maybe things could go back to the way they were before. When they were best friends... All of them.

But she wasn't even looking at him. She just stared at the wall, almost like he wasn't really there and she was just talking to herself instead. "It was nice. I haven't been able to do something like that in so long..." Since they'd stopped paying attention to her and completely destroyed their friendship. "It was fun. Lots of fun. And then Feli told me that she was coming to visit you since you'd hurt yourself and...and I decided that I should come too."

Even she didn't sound entirely sure of why she would come to visit him. She now finally turned her head to look at him, dozens of emotions passing through her eyes. Hurt and confusion and anger. And all Antonio could do was stare back and wait for her to continue.

"You hurt Lovi." The statement came out as an accusation, which made him wince slightly. Although he knew that it was true, probably truer than he understood right now. "You really hurt her. Her and me and Feli and everyone."

He knew. He understood that he'd hurt them. He hadn't wanted to... Things had just ended up spinning out of control. He'd just wanted to stay with Francis—keep Francis happy. Because he didn't want him to be alone anymore.

He couldn't say that, though. Because he knew that nothing that he said could make up for his actions, for causing that much pain to Lovi and Gill and everyone else that he loved.

"And I should be really angry with you. I should be really really angry with you." She leaned backwards until she was leaning slightly against his legs. "But...I don't really want to be."

...That hadn't actually been the response that Antonio had expected. He just stared at her in surprise as she shifted her weight, attempting to find a more comfortable position. "You don't  _want_ to be?"

"I've missed you guys. It's been...it's been..." And Antonio sat up straighter when he heard the slight crack in her voice, like she was trying to keep from sounding upset. "It's been awful and unawesome and I just want to be friends again and..."

And honestly, that was all he needed to hear, as Antonio immediately leaned forward—and that definitely  _hurt_ —and immediately pulled her into the tightest hug that he could muster up. Earning himself a surprised yelp in the process. Thankfully this was Gill, though, and not Lovi, since she'd probably kill him if he tried doing this to her.

"Lo siento, Gilly. Lo siento..." He'd make it up to her. He'd make it up to her and Lovi and everyone else that he'd hurt if it took him the rest of his life. And he'd figure out what was wrong with Francis, too and fix everything so that they could all be friends again.

He was determined to do all of that. No matter what it took.


	35. Chapter 35

Big Mike...

Leon felt really really exhausted right now. First he'd had to deal with Gill and her friends all morning, then he'd come home to find that Francis had invaded his house and Arthur had decided to fix up Ned for some reason. And now the two boys were sitting at his kitchen table, Francis attempting desperately to gain control of his laughter—failing miserably, too—while Arthur just sat there and stared at him with a shocked expression.

Big Mike. Francis had called his grandmother Big Mike... The name actually sounded vaguely familiar, like someone had mentioned it to him once.

Was that why no one had seemed to make the connection between the two of them? His grandmother used a nickname?

...You know, this was probably the first time he was really really happy that she was so eccentric.

And apparently Francis had finally managed to quell his laughter. As he was now just sitting in his seat with his elbow resting on the table and his head resting on his hand. Staring at Leon with an amused smirk.

Which only grew larger when Leon met his gaze with a slightly confused frown. "Ah, I cannot believe that I didn't notice it before. The resemblance is so obvious."

"I don't look that much like her."

Francis's smirk only widened at that. "Oh, but you definitely do." And Leon felt a foot bump against his, this time remaining there for a few seconds too long. He shot the other male a warning glare, but Francis didn't even have the decency to visibly respond.

"Wait." And now his attention was distracted by the other occupant of the table, who he'd sort of forgotten about... And who was now looking at him as if he'd just grown an extra head or something. "You're related to that psycho?"

"That isn't nice to say, Arthur." Francis cut in before Leon could respond... And he'd scooted his chair closer so their legs bumped against each other every time that either moved. "Big Mike can be very nice when she wishes to be. Remember when she made you that cake for your birthday when you were ten?"

"Which then exploded and ended up covering everyone surrounding it with chocolate?"

"Oui! It was a very exciting birthday, wasn't it?"

...You know, sometimes even  _Leon_ wondered how it was possible for someone like him to be related to someone like her. Maybe there'd been a mix-up at the hospital or something when he was born—just ignore the fact that he looked almost exactlylike his father.

"Yeah, she's my grandmother. So you know her?" He supposed that it shouldn't be a surprise, since he knew that his grandmother had a tendency to  _act_ like an insane teenager. It shouldn't be at all shocking that she would be well-acquainted with the insane teenagers of the town.

Wait a minute...

 _Insane teenager_.

...Oh. Crap.

Thankfully his attention was distracted from the horrifying realisation that had just flashed through his mind—please,  _please_ let him be wrong; his luck couldn't be  _that_ awful—by the sound of Francis's chair legs scraping against the floor. He stood, grinning at Leon's questioning look as he began collecting the empty bowls. "I can make dessert now, oui? How do crêpes sound?"

Ah... And now Leon glanced over toward his clock; it was close to six. How long had Francis  _been_ here?

"No, don't bother." However long, it had definitely been long enough. "I should take you home." Since it had probably been at least a few hours. And Leon had the feeling that his parents or guardians or whoever lived in that enormous mansion with him knew where he was...

Which was a concerning thought, since he was what—fifteen? Fifteen, the kid of a very very wealthy family. He struck Leon as being the sort of person who wasn't especially  _careful_ when it came to interacting with other people. Definitely not the sort of person who should be wandering alone through the town like this.

"Quoi? But, cher..." And now he took a step back toward the table, pouting as if he'd just been told that he couldn't have his sweets until after dinner or something like that. "Dessert is a very important part of any meal, oui? And you're new here and we barely know anything about you. We should chat and learn about each other."

Arthur snorted at that, startling Leon slightly, who glanced back at him. "Why don't you just admit that you don't want to go home, frog?"

"Why not?" Leon glanced between the two teenagers currently invading his dining room, feeling like he was missing something. Scratch that, he  _knew_ that he was missing something. There was something going on between the two boys that he was unaware of—something that he was pretty sure was incredibly important.

He just had no idea what that  _thing_  was...

And they were currently flashing each other rather annoyed looks that were only strengthening Leon's belief that there was something going on that he was missing. Arthur was still seated at the table, looking rather bored with the whole situation, while Francis remained standing in the entryway to the kitchen, frowning at him.

"Oui,  _Arthur._  Why would I not want to go home?" And that tone was a lot harsher than Leon was used to hearing from the boy. And he was now leaning against the doorframe, eyes flashing dangerously at the other teenager.

Which, Arthur seemed more than willing to rise to the bait, as he lifted his head to look at the other boy for a moment and then snorted, choosing to divert his attention to the blank wall in front of him. "I don't really know,  _frog_. Since you're supposed to be there right now, working on our  _project_. Or are you chickening out on me? Since I know that's what you usually do when things start getting hard."

...Okay, this was definitely not sounding good. Leon started walking back towards the two. He definitely didn't want to be dealing with two teenage boys getting into a fist fight in his kitchen.

"Like you know about things being  _hard_ ," and Francis was definitely annoyed now. Seriously, where in the world had this come from? "You've been hiding out here for the last few days while I've been working to make sure that everything works out as well as it can. And perhaps I would be at home working on our project at home if  _someone_  hadn't asked for me to come here and bring them some  _thread_..."

"I told you to leave as soon as you dropped it off!" Arthur grabbed one of his crutches, using it to pull himself to his feet. "If you cared about anything besides your fucking libido...!"

"You two, quit it!" Okay, and that was  _enough_. Leon hurriedly stepped between the two boys at that, flashing each of them a glare in turn. Which thankfully seemed to get their attention; Francis immediately backed down, sending him a 'what almost was apologetic' smile in response, while Arthur just scowled back, but returned to his seat.

"I have no idea what's going on with the two of you, but you need to stop fighting." This was just making him more exhausted. He really just wanted to go to bed and not have to deal with teenagers who liked making his life more difficult than it needed to be. "Francis, I'm taking you home before your parents start worrying about you..."

"My parents are not home, though." And that hadn't really been the response he'd been expecting or really wanted to hear. "So it doesn't matter if I go home. I can just tell the servants not to expect me back tonight."

"They still bother to expect you home at night?" Arthur interrupted again. "Funny, you'd think they'd be used to you spending the night with your fuck buddies by this point."

"Arthur..."

"Ah, but I usually bring my  _friends_ back home with  _moi_ , mon ami~" Francis smirked, sliding his hand into his pocket and pulling out a cell phone. "Why would I go to someone else's home when I have such a nice one of my own? Do not worry, though. They are quite understanding when I do decide to spend the night at someone else's home. I'll just inform them that I'll be returning tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure that they will enjoy the free evening."

And now he turned, walking back into the kitchen as he dialled a number into his phone.

...It took Leon a minute to figure out what had just happened. "Wait! I didn't say that you could—"

"Just let him." Arthur interrupted, sounding rather fed-up with the whole situation. "Francis is a git. And he's stubborn when he wants to be. It's easier to just let him do what he wants, especially when it's something stupid like this."

And now he grabbed his crutches again, using them to pull himself to his feet and then he began walking back towards the living room. "You two had better not fuck while I'm here, though. Otherwise I'll fucking kill both of you."

...Leaving Leon standing in his own dining room, unsure what had just happened.

He was starting to suspect that he'd somehow managed to gain two roommates for the night.

Wonderful.


	36. Chapter 36

_You can't kill Francis. You can't kill Francis. Murdering someone while in a cop's home would be an incredibly bad idea._

Arthur just had to keep repeating that to himself. Just had to convince himself that strangling Francis right now would be a really bad idea... Very cathartic, but not worth having to spend the rest of his life in a cell.

"What the  _hell_  do you think you're doing?" Instead, he was going to have to content himself with just sitting at this table and arguing with the idiot. Or attempting to argue with the idiot. Francis currently wasn't paying him any attention. Instead, he was flitting around the kitchen like some spastic hummingbird, humming to himself like he didn't have a care in the world.

...Git was probably making some disgustingly  _French_ dessert right now.

And the idiotic frog didn't even acknowledge his question at first. He just kept humming to himself as he cracked three eggs into a bowl—looking like some professional chef while he did it, of course. Arthur had never been able to figure out how to crack eggs without dropping at least half of the shells into the batter. Not that he was a bad cook! He could cook just as well as the frog.  _Better_ than the frog if he wanted to...

Anyway... So Francis didn't bother answering his question immediately. Of course not. Not until he had cracked all the eggs into the bowl and then lifted it into his arms so he could begin stirring at the mixture. Only then did he  _finally_ turn to face Arthur, flashing him an amused smirk.

"I am making dessert, mon cher. Did you really need to ask?" He tilted his head to the side as his eyes widened in an incredibly fake-looking concerned expression. "I see. You really are such a bad cook that you can't even recognise quality cooking anymore?"

...Maybe if he was quiet, Leon wouldn't hear him kill the git. And then he could just make his getaway somehow. He was currently in the shower after all, so Arthur rather doubted that he could hear them anyway.

Not that he would probably care too much, even if he could hear them. He had seemed pretty out of it earlier after all. He'd arrived looking absolutely exhausted, apparently too tired to even put up much of a fight when Francis decided that he was spending the night.

He'd just sort of sat at the table for a few minutes while Francis went into the other room to talk to his servants, staring at the lobster toy that Arthur had fixed for him. Which he hadn't even  _thanked_ him for fixing. Ungrateful pig. Then he'd just sighed in resignation, stood, and walked toward the bathroom, informing Arthur that he was going to take a shower and ordering him to not touch anything.

Putting quite a lot of trust in him, although he'd at least been awake enough to realise that it'd be in his best interest to lock the door behind him. Although, Francis was actually being decent right now, surprisingly. He'd come back into the room, asked where Leon was, glanced back toward the bathroom door for a moment as if indecisive... And then he'd instead walked back into the kitchen and started making his dessert.

And now the git was acting like he had no idea what he was talking about...

"You know what I mean, frog." Arthur now pulled himself to his feet with the help of the crutches, cursing in annoyance when his injured ankle hit one of the table legs. Damn it, how much longer would he have to use these fucking things? His ankle definitely felt better, but he still couldn't walk without them, which was annoying as hell.

"Do I?" Francis's stirring had slowed to a stop as he stared back at him, actually looking slightly curious. "I don't think that I understand what you're asking, mon cher."

Arthur growled in annoyance as he made his way over to the other teenager, only stopping when they were about a foot away from each other. "I want out of here as soon as fucking possible. You're supposed to be figuring out how to get that money from your parents' little safe. What are you doing  _here_ when you're supposed to be doing  _that_?"

"You're the one who called me here, cher." And Francis's voice slipped into a more dangerous tone. One that Arthur had heard a few times—not very often, but he knew that it was a warning that he shouldn't keep pushing...

Since when had Arthur actually paid any attention to  _that_ , though?

"You were supposed to just bring the thread and then leave, fucking frog. Not decide that we're going to have a goddamn slumber party..."

And now Francis set the bowl on the counter, a dangerous smirk passing over his lips as he stepped forward so they were standing chest to chest.

...Of course the bloody git was an inch or so taller, too, so Arthur had to raise his head if he wanted to match his stare.

"Honestly, mon ami, you're really being very selfish about this. I'm the one doing all the work, oui?" He slid one of his arms behind Arthur's back, resting his hand against his hip. "I'm the one who is risking more, oui? What if someone catches me trying to steal that money? I would greatly prefer not going to any sort of juvenile hall."

"I knew you were going to try to chicken out of this..."

Francis's gaze darkened slightly as he shook his head. "Non. I've already done too much to chicken out of this." His fingers were now digging into Arthur's hip, possibly subconsciously, as he wasn't focusing on Arthur himself.

There was a moment of silence as the two stared at each other, Francis not even seeming to notice him at first. Until he started laughing—almost hysterically—and then releasing the other teenager as he turned back to the bowl.

"Ah, we are both idiots, mon ami." He lifted it into his arms and began stirring again. "I spoke with Antoine today."

Arthur blinked, frowning slightly at the rather out-of-place remark. "About what?"

And Francis laughed again, his stirring almost violent. "Not much, mon cher. I told him that I hated him."

He said that incredibly calmly, almost jokingly. As he continued to stir, hard enough that Arthur wondered if he might break the bowl or the spoon.

And Arthur's response was to stare at him in shock.

_What?_

"You tol—what? You actually told him that you  _hate_ him?" Why? Everyone knew that was as far from the truth as you could possibly get. Francis absolutely  _adored_  Antonio. It was obvious to everyone with eyes. Except possibly Antonio himself, but he was a special case...

"It's better this way, non? We'll be leaving soon and we won't be able to return after we've left. And it will be easier for Antoine if he doesn't feel like he's tied to either of us... Easier for him to move on. Besides, this way he and Lovina and Gillian can reconcile without a problem. He and Lovina can finally realise l'amour and everything will be as it should be."

And Arthur just continued to stare at him.

Francis saying that to Antonio.

That was just—

He couldn't even imagine it. Those two had been practically joined at the hip since they were children. Antonio had even gone along with them when they'd strayed from the 'straight and narrow'. And Arthur had known that the other boy hadn't actually enjoyed the drinking and the girls and all of the other shit that they'd been involved in. Not that he was  _involved_ in all of the shit that they did, since Francis did everything in his power to protect the other boy and keep him as clean and pure as possible.

Honestly, Arthur had always suspected that Francis was actually in love with him. In his own twisted, incredibly fucked up way. He knew that there was no way that Francis would ever actually  _act_ on his feelings—since it was also obvious that Antonio and Lovina were head over heels for each other—but the emotions were almost definitely there...

But, this was for the best. Once they left this godforsaken town, they'd never be able to come back. They'd never be able to see  _anyone_  again.

Damn it.

He wanted out. He wanted to leave now. He didn't want to think about this anymore.

Which was why he suddenly leaned forward, startling Francis into slowing in his stirring. And he stared at him in confusion. "Cher?"

"Fine. Then that's one problem out of the way, right? Then why the fuck are we waiting?"

Francis's confused look only deepened. "I don't—"

"Three days. We're going to be out of here in three days."

Francis's eyes widened slightly at that. "Three days? Pourquoi?"

"Why not?" He couldn't hear the shower running anymore, which meant that he should lower his voice. "There's no reason to stay here."

"Your ankle..."

"Fuck my ankle. I don't need to have a fully healed ankle to get on a fucking plane." He needed to get out of here. Even three days was too long... "I'm leaving in three days with or without you."

And now Francis just looked exasperated. "And what about money, cher? You plan to fly to London without a penny to your name?"

"If I have to, I can always just go home and  _borrow_ some from my mummy dearest." He snorted as he glanced around the room. "Maybe the pig has some lying around somewhere."

Francis leaned back against the counter, eyes narrowed slightly in an irritated expression. "I doubt it, cher."

"Doesn't matter." He doubted it too. The idiot didn't even have a  _computer_  from what he'd seen. "So, three days. Are you coming with me?"

"Oui." He sighed, now setting the bowl onto the counter as he turned to pick up the skillet that he'd set there earlier. "Although this is idiotic."

Arthur may have responded—or he might not have, since he didn't really care how Francis felt about his plan—but he was cut off by the sound of the bathroom door being opened. And then Leon walked out, dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and white T-shirt, with a stack of blankets in his arms. Looking at least a little more awake.

"I don't have another bed, so you're just going to have to sleep on the floor. I have an air mattress in one of my boxes..." He glanced toward the pile with a slightly unsure expression and then continued, "So it shouldn't be too uncomfortable."

"Ah, you are too kind, cher." And of course Francis had slipped into his flirting voice. Also known as the voice that made Arthur want to punch him even more than he  _usually_ wanted to punch him. "Although I could always just joi—"

"Air mattress or carpet. Your choice." And that was definitely a tone that left no room for argument.

It was hard to entirely hate the pig at moments like these. When he actually managed to make Francis shut up.

"And Arthur, I bought you some CDs while I was out today." He'd set the blankets down on the floor beside the couch and now he walked over toward the door, where a small black bag had been unobtrusively resting against the wall. "Since, you know, you're stuck here all day and I know it must be boring... I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I picked out some different ones. I can return the ones that you don't like."

And Arthur was too surprised to immediately respond, as he walked across the room and dropped the bag into his hands.

"Um..."

"And thank you for fixing Ned—ah, the lobster. I can't really sew very well, so..."

"Ah..." Arthur caught Francis's eye at that and was annoyed to see that the frog was sending him an amused smirk. "Fuck off. I only did it because you're a pig who can't even do something as simple as  _that_. No other reason. And I don't need you to buy me anything..."

"Stop being cruel, Arthur. Cher Leon is just trying to be nice." And of course the git butted between them, sending Arthur a look that was almost warning. "Ignore him, cher. He's always like this when he gets flustered. I'm almost done with these, if you want to prepare the toppings? You have fruit, I noticed. And powdered sugar."

"Um, yeah." He was distracted by that, of course.

Three more days. Just three more days.

Three more days and he'd be completely free.


	37. Chapter 37

You know, Antonio had never realised how difficult it was to walk around on crutches. He remembered when Lovi had broken her leg when she was little and how  _she'd_  had to use crutches for a while; she'd made it look so easy. She'd even gotten good enough at it that she could stand on one crutch and hit someone with the other. That must have taken lots of practice!

It was even harder when you were trying to keep as much of your weight as possible off of one of your legs. Especially when you were trying to balance textbooks and open doors...

"Give those to me, idiot." And that voice surprised Antonio out of his contemplations of how best to handle the door handle, as the textbooks that he'd been carrying were suddenly lifted out of his arms.

He immediately responded to the assistance by sending his biggest smile toward Lovina, who was glaring at him while balancing his textbooks on top of her own. "Gracias, Lovi~!"

"Why don't you have a backpack, idiot? How'd you expect to carry all these books while walking on those things?"

Antonio hadn't really thought about that, since he usually just carried his books around in his arms until he got to school... So instead of answering the question, he just sent Lovi another happy smile.

Which, of course, she answered with a scowl. Although it was pretty easy to see that she didn't really mean it when she leaned up against the door leading into the school, holding it open as he shuffled inside.

"How long do you have to be on those stupid things?" And now she was walking beside him, heading toward the office, since he'd have to go there to get the key to the school's elevator. Which would be fun. Antonio had never used the school's elevator before, since it was reserved for people who were in wheelchairs or on crutches...

"Just a couple days." He sort of wished that she'd walk a bit more slowly, since it was hard to keep up with her long strides. He also hoped that it wouldn't take  _too_  long to get used to these crutches.

He hadn't had much time to practice with them after all, since he'd come home very late last night and then hadn't had time this morning to walk around with them. Mamá had asked if he wanted to stay home for the day—which would have given him more time to get used to them—but then  _she_ would've probably felt like she had to stay home too and she'd already missed a day of work...

So he'd told her that he felt perfectly fine and that it'd be much better for him to go to school today rather than skip his classes. After all, he definitely didn't want to get behind in his schoolwork or anything.

She'd seemed a little unsure at first, but then she'd agreed that he probably should go.

Poor mamá. She'd seemed so worried and tired this morning, and he'd felt absolutely awful about that. She was already so anxious about money and his padre... And Antonio was very angry at his padre for calling Mamá like that. Why would he do that to her after all of these years? After she'd been working so hard to take care of him all by herself. Mamá had so many things to worry about; she definitely hadn't needed something like  _this_ to happen too.

"Oi, idiot!" And Antonio's focus was immediately brought back to earth at that sudden remark. "Earth to tomato bastard. We're here."

And that was when Antonio realised that they were standing in front of the door to the school's office. Huh, when had that happened? He must have zoned out for a little bit. He had a tendency to do that sometimes.

Anyway, he'd better hurry and get the key to the elevator if he didn't want to be late to class. And if  _he_ were late to class, then Lovi would be late to class too. And Antonio rather doubted that getting Lovi into trouble would be a very good way of getting on her good side again.

So now he walked forward, pushing open the door with one hand while manoeuvring his crutches so he could walk inside...

"I know that this probably isn't normal protocol. I have talked to his parents, though, and they thought that it might help."

"I think that it could be arranged, Mister..."

"Kennedy."

The office was mostly empty right now, Antonio noticed as he walked in. There was just one secretary sitting at a desk who was talking to a man that he'd never seen before. Probably an older brother of one of the other students or someone like that.

And neither of them had seemed to notice his entrance, which was a little troublesome since Antonio really needed that key and he didn't want to be late to class. The secretary-lady was facing him, but she seemed completely focused on the man standing in front of her.

"Yes, I don't think that we'll have a problem, Mr. Kennedy. In fact, I believe that Mr. Arins has this period free. I can call him and see if he'd be available to talk with you about Mr. Kirkland."

Mr.  _Kirkland_?

And that immediately caught Antonio's attention. Wait, were they talking about Arthur? Why was this random man talking about  _Arthur_?

Francis had been looking for Arthur. Antonio remembered when Franny had come up to him, all dishevelled and worried because Arthur hadn't contacted him in two days. Did that mean that this guy knew where Arthur was?

If so, then Antonio should definitely talk to him. Then he could go tell Franny... Francis would talk to him if he knew something important like that, right?

"Thank you. If he's not available today, then you can tell him that I could come another da—"

"Oi! Tomato bastard! What the hell is taking so long?" And Antonio was again startled out of his thoughts by Lovi's voice—Lovi was very good at that; it was one of her special talents. Apparently she'd also managed to startle the man too, since he jumped and then hurriedly turned around to face them.

"Ah, lo siento." Antonio wasn't entirely sure who he was directing the statement toward, either Lovi or the man. Or both. It was probably both; just an overarching 'lo siento' for everything that had just happened. "I needed to come and get the key for the elevator, por favor?"

The secretary lady immediately sent him an annoyed frown at that, although it wasn't as annoyed as the frown that Lovi was sending him so he barely noticed it. "Well, you're going to have to wait until I'm done with Mr. Kennedy."

"No, it's fine, really..."

"Leon~!"

Everybody had just said that all at once, although the sudden shout had managed to mostly drown out both the secretary and Mr. Kennedy's voice. And now they were all startled again as the door suddenly slammed open.

And a yellow and white body suddenly blurred right through the room and launched itself at the man, who fell back against the secretary's desk with a soft 'oomph'.

"Hi, Leon! What are you doing here? Did you come to visit Awesome? I just got a detention!"

"Hello, Gill." And now Antonio could see that the blur was Gilly. Gillian, wearing a very very big, bright yellow sweatshirt which a chick's face on the front that almost reached all the way down to her knees. "What'd you get a detention for?"

"I took the scooters from the gym and was riding them down the hallways. So worth it!"

Antonio felt confused. Gilly knew his guy? And so did Arthur?

"Oi, so you're Leon?" And suddenly Lovi walked over towards him, too. Looking irritated, although Lovi always looked irritated, so that wasn't saying anything. "You're the one that my stupid little sister was talking about yesterday. She said you'd never had gelato before."

"Um, no. Are you Lovina?"

"And this is Tonio!" And suddenly Gill launched herself at Antonio, who was very happy to accept the hug. Even if was currently very  _very_ confused. He was never too confused to get hugs, especially since he hadn't had a Gill-hug in a really long time.

"How could you have never had gelato before?" Lovi was still complaining and Leon looked confused about who he was supposed to be paying attention too. The secretary looked annoyed too, probably since Gill and Lovi had just interrupted their talk.

"I just never had the chance?"

"Leon, you should come visit the principal with me!"

"Gill..."

And suddenly all of them were interrupted by a very angry secretary, who suddenly stood up and glared at them all. Causing all of them (except Gill) to take a quick step backwards. "You three, get out of here!" She slammed the elevator key down onto the desk before Antonio could mention that he didn't have it. "Out!"

"But I'm supposed to—"

"Get out!"

And Antonio figured that they should probably obey, even if he hadn't gotten to ask the man about Arthur yet. He hurriedly hobbled forward to grab the key and then began heading toward the door. After Lovi, who had run out as soon as the woman started yelling. Hopefully she hadn't run off very far, since she still had his books.

Maybe he'd be able to find the man later. Or, at the very least, he could tell Francis about the man. So Francis would know that someone else knew where Arthur was.

He was going to talk to Francis. He was going to find him and talk to him as soon as school was over.


	38. Chapter 38

It was a really weird sensation to walk through a school after having just graduated a few years ago... There were those memories of his first day as a freshman. That absolutely horrible day—coming in almost a full month after everyone else had started. Feeling confused and lost, but not wanting to draw attention to himself. Not that it really helped anything, as the rumours had already spread and eyes followed him everywhere he went...

At least he knew that the looks that he'd received today were for an entirely different reason. Just vague curiosity about why there was some random man walking around the middle school.

It had taken him a while to find the room, as he hadn't really wanted to ask the secretary in the office for directions. But he'd finally found it, and walked into an almost empty classroom where a middle-aged teacher was sitting at his desk and scribbling something out on a piece of paper.

He'd immediately been struck by another wave of déjà vu. It was like some sick repeat of that day. He was even here for almost the exact same reason.

So it was probably good that the man had looked up at that exact moment, or Leon honestly may have just left right then. The absolute last thing that he wanted to do was revisit that time.

He was back to the present, though, by the look that the man sent him. A look that simply held a vague curiosity and statement of 'well, I haven't got all day'.

"Mr. Arins?"

The teacher nodded as he set his pen down and then stood, extending his hand as Leon walked toward his desk. "Call me Richard. You must be Mr. Kennedy."

"Yes. Leon Kennedy." He paused awkwardly in front of the desk before the man motioned for him to take a seat as he returned to his own seat on the opposite side of the desk.

"So," he stacked a few papers and then pushed them out of the way, watching Leon as he did so, "You're here to talk with me about Kirkland. ...But you're not family?"

"No." This chair was just as uncomfortable as the chair from before. "He's just staying with me for a few days—" Or weeks or however long he needed to stay. For all Leon knew he might be there for  _months_.

He wasn't sure if he could deal with Arthur for months. Especially since he had the premonitory feeling that he was also going to be dealing with Francis on a regular basis now that the kid knew where he lived.

"Yes, I received an email from his mother last night, saying that you were planning on coming to see me." He frowned slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, staring down his nose at Leon. "It's rather unorthodox for me to talk about this sort of thing with anyone other than the parents, but I suppose if it's all right with them. What exactly was it that you wanted to ask me?"

Leon hesitated for a moment, and then slowly began, "Well, I understand that Arthur hasn't been coming to class very often this year." He could start with that, he supposed.

And the teacher responded with a rather annoyed grunt. "Yes, Kirkland has apparently decided that his education isn't important to him anymore. He only bothers showing up for class on days when I'm testing the class. Usually comes in half an hour late too. And then he almost always ends up acing them anyway. It's very frustrating, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Ah, yes. I'm sure." That was rather surprising. Leon had gathered that Arthur was at least relatively intelligent, but he hadn't thought that he was  _that_ smart. And now he could just  _slowly_ ease himself into the conversation that he wanted to have with this man.

He folded his hands on the desk, watching the man with a very calm, confident look.

This kid had better thank him for all of this at some point in the future.

"I've definitely noticed that Arthur has potential, Mister—ah, Richard. He's very intelligent; it just that he needs a little help to reach that potential..."

And Mr. Arins sudden scowl was enough to surprise Leon into stopping, unsure what he'd just said. It didn't help when the man suddenly picked up a stack of paper that had been resting beside him and banged the edges against the table incredibly loudly.

"I see. You want me to just let Kirkland slide right through my class, is that it? Well, I'm quite sorry, Mr. Kennedy, but I have a strict attendance policy and his exams would only have counted for fifty percent of his grade anyway." He snorted and set the papers down, picking up a pen in the same motion. "I  _never_  make exceptions for students, no matter what 'potential' they may have. At this point, there's absolutely no way that Arthur Kirkland could pass my course."

There was a moment of silence, during which Leon waited, sensing that he had more to say. And was rewarded when the man sighed and scratched at his forehead with the cap of his pen. "Honestly, Mr. Kennedy—and this really should be kept between you and me—I consider Arthur to be a lost cause. Trust me, I've seen dozens of boys like him in my time and very few of them actually end up mending their ways. They have every opportunity to change; we spend massive amounts of time and money on them. But it ends up being a complete waste of effort. Honestly, Mr. Kennedy," He tapped the pen against the desk now, emphasising his words. "Trying to help Arthur Kirkland would just be a waste of your valuable time."

...And that wasn't the most promising response that he could have received. A little ironic too, since Leon was rather sure that if Arthur  _didn't_  mend his ways, he'd be wasting even  _more_ of his valuable time trying to deal with the aftermath. "He's still a kid, though. Kids always do stupid things, especially when they're dealing with a major upset in their family. His mom just got remarried, after all. You can't just write him off because of that."

He could see a hint of curiosity in the teacher's expression, although it disappeared after a moment as he grunted noncommittally, "Of course."

Still not very promising, but it was something at least. "I was wondering then—and I know this is a lot to ask—but is there any possible way that Arthur could pass his classes? If he came in for extra help or maybe summer school?"

Mr. Arins' eyebrows rose at that. "Arthur Kirkland?" He scooted his seat in a few inches and leaned closer. "We  _are_  talking about the same Arthur Kirkland, right? The same student who came into class a few weeks ago and decided to absolutely  _cover_  my white board with vulgarities written out in haiku form?  _That_ Arthur Kirkland?"

...That remark took a moment to sink in. And then... _What?_  "Haiku form?"

The teacher nodded, his expression holding a mixture of respect and annoyance—definitely an interesting combination. "Like I said, Kirkland is smart. A pain in the ass, but definitely intelligent."

...Okay, then.

You know, Leon had always thought that his friends from back  _home_  were a little strange. But this entire town seemed to be made up of a new breed of...uh...eccentric.

Anyway. "Well, I know that Arthur's a bit...difficult." That was probably one of the understatements of the decade. "But, I think that it's mostly just that he's upset and confused and is lashing out in the only way he can think of." He hesitated. "And I want to help him if I can. Keep him from making stupid decisions that could end up destroying his entire life."

Which was much easier said than done. Honestly, Leon wasn't even sure why he'd decided to come and talk to Arthur's teachers about this. He knew that the kid wasn't going to agree to come to class, do extra work... Even if he was apparently ridiculously smart and wouldn't have a problem making up the work.

Although, the fact that Arthur had fixed Ned for him... Leon couldn't help but take that as a sign that maybe Arthur was  _starting_ to open up a little bit. Maybe the kid was starting to like him and trust him a little bit more. And he knew that that was what Arthur probably needed most now. Someone he could trust and talk to about what he was upset and angry about.

Meanwhile, Mr. Arins just frowned up at the ceiling, tapping his pen against the desk as he thought. "You want me to work with Arthur, then? Let him make up the work and class that he's missed? What about his other teachers?"

"I can go talk to them too." Wasn't looking forward to that, but if it helped...

That was more tap tap tapping against the wooden desk. And then the teacher stared down at the younger man and sighed again, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his index finger. "Fine. This really goes against my policy, but...it would be a shame to see someone like him end up completely wasting his talents. He's going to have to work his ass off for the rest of the year if he wants to catch up, though."

"Thank you!" Leon jumped up from his seat at that, not entirely aware of the fact that he'd just done so. "Thank you very much, Mr. Ar—Richard."

"And don't worry about meeting with all of his other teachers. I'll talk to them about this. I will stipulate, though," He also stood, picking up a few stacks of papers and sorting them as he walked toward the door, Leon following, "This has to be something that Kirkland wants. I'm not going to waste my time with him if he isn't willing to put in the extra work."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Arins paused beside the door, opening it and then motioning with his arm for Leon to walk ahead. "I think that Irene—the secretary that you talked to—said that you're a police officer?"

Leon nodded, waiting as the man walked through the door and closed it behind him, then turned and locked it as he balanced his paper in his unoccupied arm. "Yes. I was just hired recently."

"Then I hope that we not meet again, unless under similar circumstances." He held his hand out, which Leon took. Was a little surprised by the man's grip when he shook his hand. "Have a nice day, Mr. Kennedy. Good luck with Kirkland."

Yeah, Leon was sure he would need it. "Thank you."


	39. Chapter 39

Two and a half more days.

In two and a half days, Arthur would be sitting on a seven hour flight bound for Heathrow Airport. Of course, he'd be stuck with the frog for those seven hours, but it was worth it... Absolutely worth it because he'd finally be free. He'd never see his step-brothers or his mother—the traitor—or that  _bastard_  ever again.

They'd arrive in London and find an apartment; it wouldn't be hard with Francis's connections. They could spend the first few months travelling around Europe. He'd eventually have to find a job, but he wouldn't need to worry about that for a while.

The only thing that he needed to focus on right now was getting out of here and making sure that he could walk without limping too horribly.

And it gave him something to do. He'd been wandering around the apartment since the frog and the pig left early this morning—apparently Francis had decided to go to school for some reason—testing his ankle... Wasn't like there was anything else to do, anyway.

There was no way that he was going to listen to any of the CDs that the stupid pig had bought him, after all. Even if he  _did_ enjoy most of the artists. Arthur had figured out his trick, after all. Pig was just trying to get on his good side—act all nice and like he actually gave a fuck—so Arthur would be more likely to agree to go back to school and his mother. Just go right back home and act like a perfect little angel...

Fuck that.

Arthur groaned as he dropped back onto the couch, glaring down at his ankle. It had been so stupid to jump out of that window.

Course—and that little, obnoxious conscience in the back of his head decided to add  _this_ —he'd been doing a lot of stupid things recently. Treating the cop like an asshole just because he was pissed off. And, the voice in the back of his head continued, did he think that running away would really solve anything? He knew that Francis would regret it—leaving Antonio like that and...

_No!_

Arthur shook his head violently, attempting to force the voice to  _shut the fuck up_. He'd already made his decision. He was getting out of here. Getting out of this apartment, out of this town, out of this goddamned  _country_. He felt trapped here. He always felt trapped here and he couldn't  _stand_  it...

And he sprawled across the couch, staring up at the ceiling with an annoyed scowl. What if he just left right  _now_? He didn't need Francis, after all... He could always go and steal money from  _that_  bastard, or maybe he could find something here. Maybe the pig had some priceless family heirloom packed in one of those boxes...

He rather doubted it, though. Which was the  _only_  reason why he wasn't going to bother getting up to check. It wasn't like he'd feel  _guilty_  or anything. The bastard was an idiot, after all...

And... He suddenly frowned, as he realised that he could hear something ringing from nearby. Rather insistently.

A phone. A cordless black phone that was currently sitting on the kitchen counter and ringing and ringing and ringing...

And he immediately sent the obnoxious piece of plastic one of his most annoyed glares, willing it to shut up. Which, of course it didn't, since that would be much too easy.

He knew that he  _should_ just ignore it, since this wasn't his home or anything and there was no reason to answer the phone. Especially since Leon wasn't here and Arthur had no clue when he'd get back. But, that ringing was annoying and, fuck it, he was  _bored_.

So he groaned and sat up, slowly scooting himself off the couch, and then walked across the room to pick up the telephone. Not bothering to check the caller ID before answering it.

Which was definitely a mistake.

"Hello, Leon?"

_Fuck._

As realised when Arthur heard that much-too-familiar voice speaking on the other end. His grip on the phone automatically tightened...  _Fuck_. Why the hell was  _she_  calling the pig? What, was she trying to check up on him?

"Hello?"

He scowled at the nearby wall, considering whether he should just hang up. He didn't want to talk with her; he didn't want to talk to  _anyone_  from home.

"What do you want?" But at the same time, this would probably be his last chance to talk to his mother. And—there were still things he wanted to know...

"Arthur," She sounded overly-relieved, apparently excited just by the sound of his fucking voice. "How are you doing, sweetie? Is your leg healing well? Are you okay? Are you ready to come home yet?"

Like he'd ever come back. He dropped down into a seat at the kitchen table, tapping his fingers against the wood in an attempt to keep himself calm. "What do you  _want_?"

"I—" It was easy to hear the disappointment and sadness in her tone. Not that he really cared, since she was the one who'd done this. Everything was  _her_ fault. Dad never would have left them if it weren't for her. Because Arthur had no doubt that she'd been cheating on his father with that bastard. Maybe for years. That was why he'd left...

"I was just calling to ask Leon about something..."

Arthur really wanted to hang up right now. "Well, he's not here, so I guess you're going to have to call back some other time." Preferably after he'd disappeared. "And I'm not coming back to that fucking house."

...And maybe that had been just a tad bit too harsh... He'd wanted to sound poised and collected, but instead he'd sounded like a petulant kid. And he was also feeling a tiny twinge of guilt—coming from that obnoxious voice in the back of his head—and the feeling only worsened when he heard a faint choked sound come from the other side of the phone, like she was starting to cry.

"I—" Her voice was soft and rough, quite obviously holding back tears. "Arthur, I'm sorry. Please, we  _need_  to talk about this. I know that I made lots of mistakes, but I love you, sweetie. And Clay and I..."

He cut her off before she could say anything about what that bastard wanted. "Yeah, and saying fucking  _sorry_  isn't going to bring Dad back!"

And he hadn't actually meant to say that...

He hadn't talked about Dad with his mother since that morning. When she woke him up and told him, with tears streaming down her cheeks, that his father had left in the middle of the night. At first, he'd just felt so betrayed and angry that he refused to talk about the man. And then, after his mother had told him about Clay. That she'd gotten a divorce; that she didn't  _care_ about his father. She didn't want him to come back... He'd refused to talk to her about much of anything after that.

And she hadn't responded to his enraged statement yet; he'd probably shocked her.

Then when she  _did_ respond, it was with a very soft voice. "...Sweetie, I'm so sorry."

He switched the phone to the other ear and shifted his weight in the chair, taking a deep breath before he continued in an almost-bored tone. "So how long was it,  _Mum_? How long were you cheating on Dad before he decided to leave?"

There was a long pause from the other end... That silence as much a confession of guilt as anything she could have said.

"Arthur..." She trailed off and the continued, her voice slightly louder. "Arthur, sweetie, I know that I made mistakes..."

"How _long_?"

And now she finally answered. "Only a few weeks. Clay helped me through a lot of difficulties, Arthur. He and I were friends for a long time, and he was the one who eventually helped me finally realise that staying in that sort of marriage wouldn't be good for either me or you..."

...Another reason to hate the bastard.

"Sweetie," and she was still talking, apparently, "I know that I made some awful mistakes and that you're upset, but please..." She hesitated. "Please come home, Arthur. We can work through this..."

"No. No fucking way."

So she finally admitted it. His mother had finally admitted that she'd been cheating on his dad with the bastard. And she really thought that he'd return to that house and play happy family with the asshole who broke apart his home? He suddenly laughed, a thought passing through his mind. "Ah, so that's why you called the pig? You're already getting tired of  _him_? Going for someone a little younger this time?"

Arthur didn't even bother waiting for a response. Instead, he hung up and then threw the phone across the room, ignoring the clattering sound of it probably breaking when it hit the floor.

He needed to get out of here... At this point, he wasn't sure where he was going to go. He just knew that he needed out. His ankle was still sore, but that wasn't about to stop him.

He grabbed the jacket that Leon had left hanging by the door when he left; throwing it over his shoulder as he slowly opened the door and then peeked out. Had to check if any nosy neighbours were out who might notice him leaving...

No clue where he was going, but he figured that any place would be better than here.


	40. Chapter 40

This was for the best. Everything that he was doing was for the best.

It was the only thing that was keeping him sane right now... The knowledge that this would lead to Antonio's happiness. He'd be happy with Lovi, and Lovi would finally be happy again with him. And Gill and, if Leon had his way, maybe even Arthur...

Arthur had accused Francis of being a masochist many times in the past. And he was probably right about that. Since it was the only rational explanation for why he'd gone back to their school this morning. He hadn't bothered going to class—there was no point in it, after all, since he'd be disappearing in a few days. He'd just walked in with the rest of the students and began searching for Antonio. Ignoring the shocked stares and intrigued whispers that followed him.

They probably hadn't expected him to come back after what had happened—after he'd destroyed his friendship with Antonio in the middle of the hallway.

Of course, they'd probably also been shocked by his atypical wardrobe. Since he'd entered the school wearing a worn, too-big, light grey hoodie with the name of some college he'd never heard of printed on the front in peeling dark blue letters over a pair of faded, fraying blue jeans. Courtesy of Leon, who'd spent the morning rummaging through his clothing for something small enough for Francis to wear, since he hadn't brought anything with him and he wasn't about to wear the same outfit two days in a row.

Anyway, he hadn't bothered to pay attention to any of the students that were passing him as he wandered through the hallways. He'd just wanted to find Antonio—he just needed to see him and make sure that he was happy. Make sure that he and Lovi were together...

His masochistic streak.

He'd waited outside his class, leaning against a locker a few classrooms down with the hood pulled over his hair, arms crossed over his chest. Watching out of the corner of his eye... Wondering where he could be...

And then he'd finally appeared. Finally appeared, right before the late bell was about to ring. On crutches. Hobbling along beside a scowling Lovi  _on crutches_.

_Why...?_

He'd been shocked. So shocked that he'd almost forgotten to duck out of sight before they saw him. Thankfully managed to gain control over himself not a moment too soon...

And then he'd just stood there, hidden in the doorway of an empty classroom, and  _watched_. Confused questions darting through his mind every so often. But he wasn't panicked enough to miss the  _looks_. The blush that crossed over Lovi's cheeks as she'd shoved Antonio's books into his hands with a snapped insult. She'd always been shy, unsure how to deal with those first-crush butterflies. But it'd be impossible to ignore the deep emotions that hid beneath her brash exterior.

And the smile that Antonio sent her...  _Her_ smile. The one that he'd reserved only for her. Overflowing with pure, perfect love...

Francis had left after that.

...And Arthur was probably right. Arthur tended to be right when Francis would most prefer that he be wrong. It was one of his many obnoxious tendencies. He'd notice the things that you most wanted to hide—he usually wouldn't say anything and he rarely pushed. But you always knew that he knew...

He'd come back home after that. Ridden on the bus for the first time in ages-he'd at least been smart enough to bring his bus pass with him. Although he'd left his bag in Leon's apartment. Gave him a reason to go back, outside of returning Leon's clothing.

He hated buses.

He hated how  _long_  it took to get anywhere. Stop after stop after stop of people getting on and off, on and off...

And he hated to think about how he used to  _love_  riding the bus. When he and Gill and Antonio would ride all the way to Antonio's house. Joking and talking and laughing. He'd be sitting against the window; half of his body pressed against the cold metal wall while the other half...

As he'd grown older, he'd become overly-aware of  _everything_ that came with Antonio's presence. Hyper-sensitive to the heat that radiated from the thigh pressed up against his leg. His eyes were constantly fixated on his friend's profile; he would memorise the way that Antonio's eyes would crinkle when he smiled and how his white-white teeth would flash when he laughed. And every time that he'd turn toward him with one of those beautiful smiles stretched across his lips...

_Not the same as the smiles that he saved for Lovi._

It was too easy to lose yourself in thought while riding on a bus.

And then he'd come home and snuck in the back way in hope of avoiding the servants. Crept up to his parents' rooms and made his way to his father's office. Where he'd been working since then, combing through his drawers in search of the combination to the safe. Praying that he'd be able to find it quickly, although it didn't look like  _that_ was about to happen, since there was a surprising amount of paperwork hidden away in this desk.

Strange, considering the fact that his parents were never home, although many of the papers seemed to be rather old... He avoided reading them for the most part, although occasionally he'd catch a word or two off a sheet. Finances, mostly. Mixed in with a few personal letters—he'd noticed his own name popping up in a few of those.

He had to find the combination. That was all that mattered right now. He couldn't think about anything else: not his parents or Antonio or Arthur or anyone...

Which was impossible.

He'd gone to Lovi, at least.  _Hurt himself_  in the process somehow, but at least he'd gone to Lovi. And she seemed to have accepted him—if not with wide open arms, then at least with her usual pouts and shy blushes.

Francis sighed as he lifted another stack of papers from one of the drawers and set it on the floor beside him. Later, probably right before he and Arthur left, he'd have to go through this room and make it look like a burglary. Not that it would probably fool anyone for long, but it might buy them a few extra hours at least. They just needed enough time to get across the ocean and out of the airport...

And he shouldn't think about that now, either.

It was just too quiet in here. Of course, it was  _always_  too quiet in this house. The place was too big. Too empty... It had always terrified him as a child, to the point where he'd always follow the servants around while they were working. A few had let him; most of them scolded him for getting under foot. Only Jean had—

 _And he_  wasn't _going to think about that._

Francis hurriedly stood, barely conscious of his own movement, as he thrust that thought into the darkest corners of his mind. He  _wouldn't_ think about that. It was over. Everything that had happened back then... It was  _over_...

And there was no way that he could stay here now. He couldn't stay in this house. He had to get out—get  _away_.

He could always continue searching for the combination later tonight. He could leave now...go out and find someone to spend the next few hours with. There were plenty of people that he could call, after all.

One of the perks of being the town whore. You never had to worry about being alone if you didn't want to be...

He'd left the room, locking the door behind him—after all, it wouldn't do to have one of the servants go in and find that mess, would it?—and was now walking down the hallway toward his own bedroom.

He'd have to get dressed in something more flattering. That new pair of jeans that he'd bought earlier this week perhaps. The ones that clung perfectly—almost like a second skin. And that dark blue shirt that drew attention to his eyes. He'd call Peter perhaps, since he never minded skipping school for a tryst. And if he were lucky, it might  _only_  be Peter... Although it wasn't like he really cared too much either way right now. It would just be easier... Much less painful.

And he was jerked out of those thoughts by the rather surprising sound of footsteps hurrying in his direction.

"Master Francis! There you are!"

And a slightly-familiar voice shouting his name down the hallway. Very  _very_  loudly...

Ah, the new servant. Kida? Chida? Something different like that. He'd only seen her once or twice, since she was apparently working in the kitchens for now. Around his own age, rather cute, red-headed, probably the only servant in the entire building who didn't immediately freeze and hush up as soon as she saw him.

And most of the older servants would probably have had mild heart attacks right on the spot if they'd seen her running through the halls like that.

"Master Francis!" She'd stopped in front of him, her feet sliding slightly on the polished floorboards. Barely managed to keep herself from falling over. "I've been looking..." She paused for a moment, clearly out of breath, and then continued, "Looking  _everywhere_  for you. Mister Antonio's waiting in the sitting room..."

And he didn't hear her next words, as his brain had immediately fixed on those words.  _'Antonio's waiting in the sitting room'..._

" _What_?"

She frowned up at him for a moment, clearly not wanting to go through her spiel again, but she obediently repeated, "Mister Antonio is waiting in the sitting room for you. I told him that I'd come get you, but it took me a while. We really should just shut off like half of this house. It's  _way_  too big and it'd make it so much easier to clean and..."

He cut her off before she could continue. "Ah, merci…"

_Why the hell was Antonio here? After what he'd said to him..._

This could ruin  _everything_.

"You're welcome. Is there anything else that you'd like?"

And he hurriedly shook his head. "No... Just—" It was hard to think clearly right now. "We'll be talking in my room. And it would probably be best if we weren't disturbed..."

She immediately nodded, "Of course, Master Francis," and then curtseyed politely before turning and walking away at a more reasonable pace.

Leaving him standing there, thoughts racing... Trying to think...

_Why? Why was Antonio here?_

Antonio was supposed to be with Lovi and Gill. Happy with them. He wasn't supposed to be  _here_.

It'd been hard enough pushing him away  _once_ ; he didn't know if he could do it again.

...But he had to. He had to keep Antonio safe and happy and keep him out of this whole mess. Because he loved him too much to let him destroy his chances for happiness like this.

Merde... _Why?_


	41. Chapter 41

This might actually work out.

 _Might_ , of course, being the key word in that sentence. Leon knew better than to think a word any stronger than that. This would only work if Arthur actually agreed to the idea, and he knew that getting the kid to agree to this plan was going to be incredibly difficult if not practically impossible.

But, if he could convince him to actually do this, then...

Arthur was smart. Brilliant, apparently. If he went back to school and proceeded to work his ass off, there was no way that he'd fail. He was the sort of kid who had the potential to do absolutely anything that he put his mind to...

Leon sighed as he dug into his pocket for his apartment key. He felt like a worried parent right now. The parent of a  _teenager_ , just to make the sensation even weirder.

And that was when he suddenly noticed something rather odd, as his fingers finally closed around his key ring and he moved to slide the golden house-key into the lock.

The door was slightly ajar.

Leon just stood there for a moment, gazing at the tiny crack between the door and frame as his hand automatically moved toward the holster at his side. Without much conscious thought. He'd definitely locked the door before he left... Of course, Arthur could have gone out, but this was still strange.

He pulled the gun from his holster and then settled his hand against the door, pushing it slowly open. The interior was dark; he groped at the wall for a moment before his hand finally found the light switch and his apartment was flooded with light.

Empty.

He took a step inside, glancing around slightly worriedly. "Arthur?"

No response.

His initial glance revealed everything looking pretty much exactly as it had when he left. Arthur's little couch-bed was a disaster area, as usual. The only difference was that it was missing its usual occupant.

There were no signs of a struggle; although he did note that Arthur's crutches were still here. But they  _were_  currently leaning up against the couch, as if they'd been placed there purposely. Which meant that he'd probably left of his own free will.

Leon walked farther into the apartment, allowing his gun to lower to his side as he glanced around and began to mentally check through all of his possessions. His jacket was missing—the one that he'd left hanging up by the door. And he noticed that the phone wasn't sitting in the charger.

A few more steps and he noticed a piece of black plastic resting against the wall. And another piece in the middle of the rug...

...And it looked like he'd found his phone.

Leon sighed as he immediately knelt down and began to pick up the pieces of plastic, feeling a slight twinge of annoyance flicker through his mind. Of course. He'd just gone out to try to help the kid and he comes back to find Arthur gone and his phone destroyed. And he'd have to pay for that phone too, since it had come with the apartment.

Somebody in Arthur's family must have called... Since the only other people who knew his phone number were his aunt and uncle, Chris and his family, and his grandmother. And he rather doubted that any of them would have said anything to Arthur that would've angered him enough to break his phone.

Also angered him enough that he'd decided to run off, apparently.

...Leon was really starting to feel grateful for his singleness, if this was what it was like to have kids...

He groaned at that thought and allowed himself to sink into the very inviting couch cushions.  _Now_ what? What was he supposed to do  _now_? Go run after the kid? Drag him back here and duct tape him to a chair?

He almost smirked at that. Now  _that_  was a very tempting thought.

Unfortunately not going to happen, though. He sighed again and dropped his head back against the headrest, staring up at the ceiling. White, boring...

He was tired. Physically and emotionally. He was sick and tired of dealing with a kid who obviously didn't care that he was trying to help him. Tired of dealing with the memories that it kept bringing back... His own stupidity... Memories and feelings that he  _had_  to keep buried.

Although, those memories at least kept reminding him of why he had to do this. Why he couldn't give up on the kid. So nothing like  _that_  happened again...

This was his punishment for killing her.

Leon immediately closed his eyes at that thought, replacing the white ceiling with complete blackness. He couldn't think about that. Not now. He had to find Arthur.

Which was easier said than done, since he had no idea where to even  _begin_  looking for him. He barely knew the town, after all. His runaway roommate could be anywhere. Wandering around, staying with friends, off in some secret hideaway in the woods...

The only person who might know—who seemed to know Arthur better than anyone else...

Leon allowed his eyes to open again as he glanced down at the hand that he'd been resting against his knee. Clean now, but it hadn't been that long ago... And he had a good memory; it was one of the things that had definitely helped him in the academy.

He frowned slightly as he stared at his hand, attempting to mentally reconstruct the numbers that had been scribbled across it.  _483-2..._ Last numbers.  _78._  And then... There'd been another  _7_. Which he'd finished off with a flourish. And a cocky smirk.

Francis would probably at least have  _some_  idea of where Arthur might be... He could start searching. And once he found him...

Leon honestly had no idea what he'd do after he found him. But he had to do  _something_. He had to try to convince him to stop this. Because...because that was just what he  _had_  to do.


	42. Chapter 42

A pair of crutches were resting against the back of the couch.

It was funny; those crutches were the first things that Francis noticed when he walked into the sitting room. Apparently he was so desperate to ignore the boy currently seated on his couch that even his  _eyes_ were willing to focus on absolutely  _anything_  else.

"Franny!" Not that he succeeded in doing so for long.

Francis visibly winced at the voice, and then harshly slid his hands into his jean pockets in an attempt to hide the fact that they were shaking.  _Go away. Why are you here? Don't you understand how difficult you're making this for me?_ And he forced a harsh tone between gritted teeth—he had to hold himself back from telling the other boy how much he'd missed him, how sorry he was for hurting him. "I thought I told you to leave me alone, Antonio."

"But, Franny!" Francis refused to look up. He couldn't look into those absolutely stunning, incredibly beautiful green eyes because he knew they'd break his resolve.  _He was doing what was best for Antonio. And what was best for Lovina._   _He couldn't forget that..._

"I know you said that you didn't want to see me, but please don't leave..." Antonio's tone was desperate. His voice almost breaking. "I found out where Arthur is and I know you were worried about him. And I don't want to stop being friends, Franny. I'll fix whatever's wrong. I promise..."

Francis hated this. God he fucking hated this. "It's not your fault, Antonio. But you really need to leave now..."

"No!"

And now Francis finally lifted his head, shocked by the tone of voice. And was even more startled to see that Antonio had risen to his feet, using the couch to support himself. His emerald glare was hard—angry—but still absolutely gorgeous... Hypnotic almost.

God, he  _wanted_  him.

Because that's what everything came down to for him, didn't it? He was sick. His best friend was hurting and all he could think of was sex...

"Franny, I don't think I really know what's wrong, but you can't just leave me like this! I promised, didn't I? I promised that we'd always be together! No matter what!"

Huh? Wait, was Antonio actually talking about the promise that he'd made when they were kids?

Francis was shocked that Antonio still remembered that. It'd been so long ago. He'd  _tried_  to forget, but it was impossible to forget anything that had happened back then... No matter how hard he tried.

And he suddenly realised what Antonio had said before. Something about finding Arthur?

"I don't  _need_  you to stay with me, Antonio." Francis had no idea how he managed to say the words so calmly when he was internally screaming at himself. "I can take care of myself... And I already know where Arthur is, so you don't have to worry about that."

"No." Antonio's dark curls bounced around as he shook his head, completely ignoring Francis's words. "I'm keeping my promise, Franny."

"What about Lovina?"

And Antonio paused at that, staring at the other teenager with a now-unsure expression. "What about her?"

...Was he  _seriously_  that slow? Francis found it hard to believe that Antonio was still unaware of his own feelings toward the girl.

Apparently he  _was_ still unaware, though, as he now shook his head and responded with a "Lovi would understand."

...Would it be inappropriate to smack some sense into Antonio's  _tiny_  brain right now?

"Just get out of here, Antonio. I don't want you here and I can have one of my servants escort you from the premises if I have to." It would kill him to have to do so, but Francis was more than willing to hurt himself in doing what was best for Antonio.

"Francis..."

"Just get out of here."

And Antonio  _finally_ decided to listen to him. Thank God. He sighed in frustration and then began to hobble over toward his crutches.

Francis wondered what in the world had happened—how he'd managed to hurt himself so badly—but he didn't dare ask. It didn't matter anyway. He had to distance himself from Antonio; he couldn't show that he cared about him. As long as Lovina was there to take care of him in her own Lovi-way.

And that was the moment when his cell phone rang.

" _I'mma teach you how to scream my name_  
You're never gonna get away from me  
Yeah, I kinda like that. I wanna tap that  
You can bet I'm gonna get you..."

And...he'd forgotten to change his ringtone back after whats-her-face had changed it.

"Bonjour?" He hurriedly answered the phone, sending an annoyed look toward Antonio when he stopped moving toward his crutches and instead decided to just stand there.

"Francis?"

_Leon?_

Francis didn't respond immediately, too startled at hearing the man's voice on the other end of the line. He'd actually called him? Francis had just given him the number as a joke.

Merde, any other time and Francis would have  _loved_  to flirt with the older man over the phone, but right now he just wanted to get rid of Antonio and find himself an uncomplicated fuck. "Oui?"

"Do you know where Arthur is?"

... _Merde._

"Arthur? Non, he was just with you."

Leon sounded worried. Francis had no idea how someone like him could grow so concerned over someone like Arthur in just a few days. "He ran out. I think his parents called while I was out and upset him or something like that. I thought he might be with you. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

He hadn't... Arthur hadn't left without him. He  _wouldn't_...

"Non..." And his voice had sounded weaker than he'd expected. Weak and shaky. Fuck, he couldn't lose control. Not now... "I—I mean... Arthur has a tendency to wander. It's not my job to..." And he couldn't finish.

Arthur could be pigheaded. And if his mother had called, he may do something stupid. Like try to run off to London alone.

Fuck. Fuck fuck  _fuck..._

"Francis? Are you okay?" And now the too-nice voice sounded concerned about  _him_. Which was funny, actually, since it was absolutely moronic for people to worry about  _him_. It didn't matter what happened to him. Arthur actually had a family that cared about him, even if the idiot was too stubborn to acknowledge it.

"Oui." If Arthur had left without him... But, he wouldn't. Francis had the money after all... "I'm fine. I have to go..."

"Are you sure? You don't soun—"

Francis didn't let him finish. Instead he hurriedly snapped his phone closed, cutting the call off.

Fuck. Fuck, he had to think. Where would Arthur be? Would he have left without him?  _Of course he would have. Arthur was an idiot..._  And if he had left, then what now?

He could always run away on his own, he supposed. That had been his contingency plan after all, in case Arthur changed his mind. Make his way to Paris with his parents' money, and then sell himself as a prostitute once that money had run out.

The only problem was Antonio. He had to convince Antonio to stay here with Lovina.

If he could just make Antonio hate him. But he'd tried. He'd tried to make Antonio hate him and he'd shown up here anyway.

"Did something happen to Arthur?" He'd grabbed his crutches and now took enough steps over so that he was standing right in front of Francis. "Franny, is something wrong?"

"Non, you need to..."

"I'm not leaving, Franny."

It was so hard to think when Antonio was standing right  _there_. He was standing close enough that Francis could smell him. He smelled like he'd been outside, out working in his precious tomato gardens most likely. It was a scent that was distinctly Antonio. One that Francis had learned to love through the years.

You know, there was one way to scare Antonio off... The only way that Francis could think of right now.

Antonio, of course, knew that he and Arthur were bisexual—at least he was; who knew about Arthur... But Antonio himself was definitely straight. Or Lovi-sexual if you wanted to get right down to it, since the only girls he ever showed interest in were girls who looked like Lovina.

And it wasn't like Francis had any shame anymore. He'd throw himself at anyone who'd have him.

Merde, and he'd wanted Antonio for  _years_. He'd spent too many of those awkward pre-teen nights hiding under his covers, his imagination running wild as he pictured the other boy's body pressed against his... Mouth hot against his... Then when he was older and he'd started "sleeping around". The first few times he'd slept with other boys—usually older siblings of the girls he was supposedly dating, because he'd been disgusting like that—he'd called out Antonio's name in the midst of his pleasure. The boys would mock him, occasionally get angry. He'd always felt guilty, filthy...

This was going to kill him. He knew it. But at the moment, he didn't care. He couldn't think straight when he felt so emotionally drained and Antonio was standing  _right there_. Beautiful emerald-green eyes, chocolate-coloured hair that looked windswept no matter what, tanned skin from spending most of his time outdoors... An expression of caring worry.

He loved him. He'd been in love with him for years. And he  _wanted_  him. Antonio was the only person who Francis had ever honestly wanted to be with... All of those other girls and boys were more out of boredom or loneliness or whatever. Antonio was the only person he'd ever  _loved_.

"Antoine?"

And it was almost sad how Antonio immediately perked up at the name, eyes settling on Francis with such soft care...  _Not the way he looked at Lovina, but Francis knew that he could delude himself for now._

"You want me to be happy, oui, Antoine?" He slipped a hand behind Antonio's back, resting right at the small of his back. Feeling the warmth soaking through his shirt and into his palm, up his arm...

"Sí! Of course, Franny!"

And he knew he'd hate himself for saying this. But at the moment, it was the only thing he could think of to get rid of him. Or—but he really didn't want to think about the possibility—to finally have one of his deepest, darkest fantasies come true.

"Fine. Then fuck me."


	43. Chapter 43

_Fuck her. Fuck her. Fuck her._

Why had she even bothered calling? Did she  _enjoy_ tormenting him? Was that it? Or was she just so dense that she couldn't even take a  _hint_?

God, he hated her. He hated her and he especially hated that  _bastard_... That bastard who'd fucked up his family and his life. Who'd gone and fucked his  _mother_... Couldn't forget about that little trivia fact. Fucked his mother even  _before_ his real father was gone.

Arthur's ankle was throbbing. Sending little shots of pain up and down his leg, which he did his best to ignore. Because there was no way that he was going back to the cop's house now. Not after that fucking phone call. No, he was getting out of here. He wasn't waiting for Francis. He was getting out of here tonight.

He had his fake ID, after all. He didn't have his fake passport, but at this point he couldn't care less where the hell he ended up. He could always call Francis from another city, after all. The bastard had plenty of money; he could pay for an extra plane ticket.

And all Arthur had to do right now was break into his house and steal a few hundred bucks from the bastard. Steal the car and get himself to the airport.

This was stupid, he knew, but he had to get out of here. He couldn't stay in this town for one more night.

He groaned as another jolt of pain shot up his leg. He really hoped that his "family" was currently out of the house, because there was no possible way that he was going to be able to climb up to his bedroom. If they weren't...

He didn't want to think right now. He just wanted to get out of here...

"Well, look't who it is..."

"Looks like the faggot from afore..."

...Oh God, you  _had_  to be kidding him.

"'Nd looks like he's limpin'."

"Ha, ya go and hurt yaself, fag?"

Arthur turned, feeling his heart sink even as he slipped a smug-as-fuck smile onto his lips. Damnit,  _these_  bastards? The idiots that had tried to pick him up however long ago it was? The ones who he'd sort-of attacked with a couple of empty beer bottles?

Shit. Although he had to admit that he felt a tiny smidgen of pride when he noticed that the uglier one looked even worse now, as his face was absolutely  _covered_  with scars. And the other had a nice deep slice right across his cheek, which Arthur had also inflicted that same night.

But he knew that there was no possible way he'd be able to take them on right now. Not when he was injured. And he didn't even have his pocketknife...

Shit. Shit shit  _shit_.

"You idiots really want to fight me?" What should he do? Try to bluff his way out of this? "You want a nice matching scar?"

He'd known that it wasn't going to work. Even as he'd spoken. He was defenceless. Injured, weaponless.

And he froze as the older of them reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, gleaming knife. A smirk stretching across his lips as Arthur stared at the knife, feeling his chest tighten in...fear?

Since when did he fear these sorts of idiots? He was Arthur Kirkland. He wasn't scared of anything.

But God, his leg hurt too much right now. He couldn't even think straight. What should he do? These bastards were going to kill him.

 _Going to kill him_.

And that was the moment when he realised that he was going to die if he didn't think of something quick. But what could he do? He couldn't outrun them or fight them or even bribe them.

"What? The fag's outta witty comebacks?" The one holding the knife took a step forward, grinning. "Ya ain't so tough without your friend, are ya?"

Where the  _fuck_  was Francis when he needed him?

Arthur bent his uninjured leg slightly as he watched the man move forward, his friend following with an evil grin stretched across his lips. Fuck, where  _was_  everyone? Why wasn't anyone coming to stop them?

He hadn't even been paying attention to the path he'd taken after he'd left Leon's apartment. He'd just automatically started walking toward his usual haunts. The areas of town where no one but a teenaged idiot would wander about at night.

And he was going to die if he didn't do something  _now_. But what?

He managed to dodge the first punch; one that was headed straight toward his face. But he wasn't so lucky with the second blow. This one a kick right against his injured shin.

And Arthur had never felt such intense pain in his life. Even the pain he'd felt right after jumping out of that window. He screamed—at least, he assumed that scream came from him. And he heard laughter coming from above him as he collapsed onto his knees, the asphalt grinding into his legs.

_..._

He could barely see through the pain and tears that had automatically sprung into his eyes. And he bit down on his tongue as another blow caught his side, throwing him against the ground. And then another against his back.

"Ain't so tough now, faggot!"

"Bet'cha I can make him scream for his 'Mummy dearest'." The uglier bastard said in a mocking attempt at his accent.

And then  _pain_...

_Pure agonizing pain and he could hear something snapping... The sound just barely managing to force its way through the waves of pain that were overwhelming his senses._

And he must have blacked out, because the next thing he knew he was being hoisted upright by the collar of his shirt and a dagger was being pressed against his throat.

"Ya know, I really  _hate_  fags like you..."

He should shut up. Arthur knew better than to mouth off in a situation like this. But then again, he was probably going to die anyway. He knew that his leg was broken now. Probably shattered. He forced a smirk through the agony and then remarked. "Then why'd you try to pick me up if you hate  _fags_ so much?"

And the man's lips twisted into an ugly scowl as the dagger pressed and then ran along his skin, a twinge of pain as it just broke skin...

"Ya  _fucking_..."

"Drop the knife!"

The shout was enough to startle both Arthur  _and_ the man. Not enough that the man actually dropped the knife, but enough that he jerked around... Jerking Arthur in the process, so that everything started going dark around the edges again.

"Drop the knife or I shoot!"

_Leon?_

Arthur could barely make out the figure standing a few yards away. He  _could_ make out the gun that was currently pointed straight at the man holding the knife against Arthur's throat. And the voice had definitely belonged to Leon...

_Why was Leon here?_

Arthur honestly hadn't expected Leon to follow him. He'd thought that the man would finally be so sick of him that he'd just let him go.

And his voice sounded  _really_ angry. Even angrier than it'd sounded when Arthur had pissed him off. Like he seriously would shoot the guy if he didn't do what he said.

"Oi, listen copper..."

"Put the knife down or I  _will_ fucking shoot you!"

There was a moment of hesitation and then Arthur felt a moment of relief when he felt the dagger move away from his throat and then a clink as it fell against the asphalt.

"Now put the kid down. Nice and gentle."

"Look'it, copper. This kid's been makin' trouble all over the place. We just teachin' him a little lesson so he learns to respect his elders an' stuff..."

"You have five  _seconds_..."

And that was the last thing that Arthur heard before everything went black again, as he suddenly lost the force holding him up and fell back onto the street.

His last thought.  _He's going to fucking_ kill  _me after this..._


	44. Chapter 44

Antonio wanted Francis to be happy. That was all that he really wanted right now. He just wanted his best friend to stop looking so hurt and sad and like he was about to cry.

And he was trembling; he probably wasn't even aware that he was trembling. And he looked so pale and tired, like he hadn't slept in days… Why was Francis so upset? Why wouldn't he let Antonio stay here and help him? Why did he keep telling him to leave?

And then when he finally spoke, his expression changed slightly to an almost-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You want me to be happy, oui, Antoine?"

Of course! Antonio immediately nodded. That was all he'd been trying to do, ever since they were little kids. And he felt a tiny glimmer of hope—at least Francis had called him by that nickname, the one that he'd stopped using after telling him to leave for the first time. "Sí! Of course, Franny!"

"Fine." His gaze darted away and then returned with renewed intensity. As if he'd finally made up his mind… "Then fuck me."

... _What?_

"If you want to make me happy, Antoine, then I want you to fuck me." And suddenly Francis took a step backwards. He'd been standing close—like he usually did when they were talking—but now he took a step away that felt...it felt like he'd moved miles away.

"I—I don't understand." Antonio just stood there, confused... Francis couldn't—he couldn't really  _mean_ that? Why would Francis want  _him_ to...?

Francis's hands were shaking, but he somehow still managed to speak completely calmly. "You're very attractive, Antoine. It's simple to understand, then, that I want to have sex with you. No strings attached. That's how you can make me happy."

Antonio just stared at him, mind refusing to comprehend his best friend's words. "But—"

And suddenly Francis moved forward again, his hands digging into Antonio's T-shirt, crumpling the fabric as he leaned forward and crushed their lips together.

Antonio had kissed plenty of girls before—he'd slept with quite a few girls, after all—but this kiss was different than anything he'd ever felt before. It felt...absolutely  _desperate_. As if Francis was putting absolutely  _everything_ into the kiss. Every little bit of himself. Antonio felt his friend's grip tighten as he failed to respond—he was too  _shocked_ to know how to respond—and then he moved his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

Antonio knew he should do something. Something to throw him off... Because he didn't want this, right?

But he could feel Francis's hands trembling—his entire body trembling, actually—and he was kissing him as if he was about to fall to pieces or something. So  _desperate._

Antonio hesitated for just a moment before he slowly reached down and then set his hands on his friend's hips, trying to calm him by rubbing small circles into the fabric there. He had no  _clue_ what he was doing, but the girls that he'd been with usually liked that...

And it seemed to at least help Francis calm down a bit, as he now stopped kissing him. He moved his head back, but refused to look up at him. He just stared down at the fists that were still crumpling Antonio's shirt.

It made Antonio's stomach twist into anxious knots. He wanted to make Francis happy; he really did. But he had no clue what to do. He knew that he wasn't really very smart and he had a tendency to do the wrong sort of thing—like how he'd done the wrong thing and made Lovi sad too—but he... He had to do something. He couldn't just lose his best friend like this.

"Is—" The word felt unfamiliar on his now slightly bruised lips. And he felt Francis flinch slightly at the sound. He rubbed more slowly, trying to stop his  _best_ friend's shaking as he thought. Then he continued, slowly, "Is—is that what you  _really_  want, Franny?"

Would this a bad thing to do? Would it really make Franny happy? He didn't understand why he wanted it, but...

He'd had sex with lots of girls before—not because he really liked them, but because it was apparently what he was supposed to do. And it felt nice and they seemed to enjoy it too. It wouldn't be that different, would it?

He loved Franny, of course. Not in a romantic way or anything, but he  _did_ love him. And he'd be willing to do  _anything_ to make him happy.

"Yes." His fingers loosened on Antonio's shirt and he took a step back, still refusing to meet Antonio's searching, confused eyes. "It's what I want."

But,  _why_?

He hesitated for a long moment. Thinking... He couldn't leave Francis. He  _couldn't_.

And then the last little push. When Francis finally looked up, his blue eyes holding such intense hurt and pain...

But still Antonio could see that little spark of defiance that was purely Francis. That little  _spark_.

It'd been there ever since they were children. Because no matter how hurt he was, no matter how much pain he was in, no matter how much the other kids teased him, Francis always held onto that little bit of strength and he'd never give in...

It was one of the reasons Antonio loved him.

So now he nodded slowly, reaching forward and tentatively sliding his hands into the soft, blond hair. Gently combing his hair, like he had so many times when they were children. "Okay. Okay, Franny. If you want it..." Even if he didn't understand.

And he'd just pray to God that he wasn't making a terrible mistake. "Just...don't let me hurt you. Please, don't let me hurt you..."


	45. Chapter 45

"It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself."

_He was surrounded by white. A hazy whiteness, like a mist. And words came out of that mist, soft words that he could just barely make out. A man and a woman..._

"We shouldn't have lied to him. We should have told him the  _truth_."

"What's done is done, Tessa. We're just going to have to live with our mistakes..."

_A new voice, familiar... But they were all familiar..._

"The doctor said that he should be waking up soon. Do you want me to go?"

Arthur was slowly returning to consciousness. He was aware of the room first. A white room; curtains were fluttering in the windows like giant moths... A man was standing with his back to the room, staring out of the window as if deep in thought.

"No." He had a deep voice, one that was definitely  _familiar_... "To be honest, I think he'll be more willing to talk to  _you_  than to us."

"If you're sure..."

Clay... The man standing by the window...

The recognition came slowly, but then it was there and he realised that his stepfather was  _here_. Here...in a hospital room. And his mother... The woman's voice had belonged to her.

What had happened exactly? He could sort of remember... He knew he'd been attacked by those idiotic thugs—they'd been about to kill him—and then, Leon had shown up and stopped them. Probably saved his life.

_Why?_

"Arthur?"

He turned his head toward the voice, wincing at the blast of pain this shot straight through his skull.  _Fuck_ , this was even worse than a hangover.

"Oh, thank God..." His mother was sitting beside him in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. And now she reached forward and grabbed his hands in hers, squeezing them much-too-tightly. And he was slightly shocked to realise that her cheeks were streaked by tear tracks.

"Mum?"

She was still crying, the tears continued down her cheeks, but she managed to smile... At least somewhat. "Hi, sweetie... How are you feeling?"

_Fuzzy. Unreal._

"He's probably higher than a kite with all the painkillers they got him on," Clayton remarked from his spot by the window. He'd turned around and now was staring at Arthur with an unreadable expression. At least, Arthur couldn't read it... But he couldn't really think right now.

"What—?" He wasn't even sure what he was asking right now. His eyes flashed around the room and finally rested on the last figure, who was sitting on the unoccupied bed near the door.

Leon. Arthur remembered that he'd appeared and threatened those men. He'd looked so angry and... _scared?_  Arthur had definitely seen fear in his eyes in those few minutes he'd been conscious. Why? He was the one with the gun. And he  _shouldn't_ care about him at all. Arthur had just been a pain in the ass the entire time they'd known each other.

"Your leg's broken, kid." Clayton spoke again. "A couple cracked ribs and you're pretty much one big bruise right now. Count yourself lucky that Leon here showed up when he did. You got off pretty light considering who you were fucking around with..."

"Clay, don't..."

Arthur watched as the man walked around the bed and stood behind his mother, one of his hands on her shoulder. All Arthur could muster was a slight twinge of annoyance, though. Usually he'd fly into a rage at the possessive signal.

"I'm not gonna sugar coat it, Tessa. If Leon hadn't shown up when he did, Arthur here would be dead. Those aren't the kind of guys who are gonna put up with some punk trying to play it tough."

More than a  _twinge_ of annoyance now, although there wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't have the energy that would be required for him to actually defend himself or get angry. And he couldn't move...

"But he's okay now. Arthur's okay. Everything's going to be okay." And now she released his hands so she could smooth his hair away from his face, like she used to when he was sick as a kid. He could see that she looked tired, like she hadn't slept well in a long while.

And he felt a pang of guilt. His fucking conscience preparing to nag at him. And tell him that this was  _his_ fault. All of this was  _his_ fault. He'd been an idiot who'd been going off and doing stupid shit for so long, worrying her and scaring her. And he'd basically called her a whore.

And yet here she was, taking care of him just like she always had...

But he didn't want to think like that. This was  _her_ fault. If she hadn't cheated on his dad, then he never would have left. They'd still be a family. None of this would have happened...

But it was so hard to think right now...

And then Leon's voice interrupted them, breaking through his thoughts. "Would it be all right if I talk to Arthur for a little bit?"

He wasn't sure what he expected, probably not the immediate response that the question received. His mother immediately stood up—one of Clayton's arms wrapped around her shoulders—and then walked to the other bed, where she leaned down and hugged the other man.

Who looked pretty surprised himself, actually.

And she said something, too low for Arthur to hear, which Leon responded to with a nod.

"We'll be back later, Arthur," she called back, and then she and Clayton left, leaving him alone with Leon.

Who didn't immediately move...

Arthur lay there, watching from the bed as Leon continued to sit on the other bed and staring distractedly at one of the empty, white walls. Before he finally spoke.

"You were planning on running away, weren't you?"

There wasn't any point in lying to Leon; if he was asking, then he probably already knew. "Yes."

"I thought so." There was another long pause, during which Leon just continued to sit there, swinging his legs back and forth like a child. Arthur watched, not wanting to move more than entirely necessary. "You know, I'm rather amazed that I found you when I did. It was pure luck or providence or something like that... I called Francis to ask if he knew where you were, but he had no idea. So I thought, 'where is the one place in the town where Arthur should definitely  _not_ be wandering around alone late at night?' and there you were."

Arthur didn't answer. He didn't need to... He just wanted to know  _why_...

Which Leon seemed to realise. As his next words came in a softer voice, "You know, I have a confession to make..." He lifted his legs from their dangling position and folded them against his body, resting his chin on his knees. "I haven't really been doing any of this out of altruism. Taking you in, following you, saving your life... Your parents keep treating me like I'm some sort of hero when it's really nothing like that. If it were just up to me, I'd probably have let you run away."

He paused at that, as if slightly surprised by the words that had come out of his own mouth. Then he continued.

"I  _am_ only twenty, you know. Not really old enough to deal with a teenager. And you've been a complete pain in the ass ever since I got here. But I had to at least  _try_ to help you... Because you're like I was at your age and..." Another pause, this time for longer, "And I don't want you making the same mistakes I made."


	46. Chapter 46

This was what he wanted. This is what he fucking  _needed_...

 _Antonio_.

It was  _wrong_. Francis knew that it had been wrong of him to ask for this, but he couldn't bring himself to stop it from happening. He wanted this too much. He wanted to feel Antonio's calloused fingers tangle in his hair, feel Antonio's slightly-chapped lips move against his, feel Antonio's firm body press against him.

" _Antoine..._ "It was better than he'd ever dared to imagine.

They'd made their way to his bedroom—the same room where the two of them had played together so often as children—and Francis had  _somehow_  managed to calm his trembling fingers enough so he could lock the door behind them. Not that any of the servants would dare bother him while he was in his private room.

And now they were lying on the bed together. Limbs tangled. Both still fully clothed.

"Francis..." Antonio's voice was soft and gentle and reminded Francis of the feel of warm summer sunshine against his skin. That's what Antonio was like. Sunshine and summer days spent outside in the tomato fields. Lovely, perfect...

He loved him so much. Not that he could ever  _tell_ Antonio that. Let him think this was entirely sexual in nature. Francis was the town whore after all; everything revolved around sex when it came to him.

Although, if Francis were entirely honest with himself, he would have to admit that he  _knew_  that Antonio would never think of him like that. No matter what he did, Antonio would just keep on loving him in that unconditional way of his.

God, how was he supposed to  _keep_ from falling in love with him? How could  _anyone_  resist falling in love with someone like Antonio?

"Franny, are you sure...?" Antonio sounded so nervous—and it was that question that brought Francis back to the present. To the here and now.

Sex. That's what this was about. Not  _love_.

"Oui." He pulled himself away from the comforting body, pulling himself into a sitting position. And began to unbutton his shirt.

Normally he'd turn this moment into a strip-tease. He'd mastered the art of undressing with an audience, after all. But...it felt wrong, somehow, to try anything like that with Antonio. So he just unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders with no extra movements or sounds. The same when he unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down his legs.

And Antonio was watching him—not like people usually watched him when he stripped for them, with complete attention on his body... Instead, Antonio's eyes were entirely focused on Francis's own eyes. It was almost unnerving.

But he knew how to hide his emotions... He knew how to keep from revealing the truth through his eyes.

And now he climbed back onto the bed, completely nude. And it felt...odd. He almost felt nervous.

Which was rather funny, because since when did Francis Bonnefoy have any shame? He'd slept with more people than probably most of the  _adults_ in this town. Besides, he and Antonio had seen each other naked countless times before. They'd bathed together when they were kids, changed in front of each other in the locker room at school. But...it was different now. Completely different.

Antonio hadn't moved or spoken since Francis had started undressing, and he somehow managed to remain still even as Francis crawled up into his lap and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his throat.

God, he  _wanted_ him...

"Fran...?" And Antonio sounded unsure of what he was supposed to do right now. His hands fluttered at Francis's sides for a moment before they settled against his hips.

And he was so completely fucked up. He shouldn't be asking Antonio to do this, but he'd come too far already and he  _needed_  this.

He'd disappear after tonight and Antonio would be able to move on with his life. He and Lovi would eventually get together, get married, have a zillion kids... Antonio would be  _happy_.

That's all he wants really. He just wants Antonio to be happy.

And Francis kisses Antonio's throat again in response to his unfinished question, resisting the intense urge he feels to bite, to mark... He can't. He knows he can't, because Antonio is Lovina's, not his. Prickly little Lovi who has  _no_ idea how to deal with her feelings toward the clueless idiot. Then again, Francis doesn't really know how to deal with his  _own_ feelings toward the clueless idiot either.

"Antoine..." He rocks himself slightly on the other boy's lap, his fingers moving up to tangle in the other boy's dark curls. He's always loved Antonio's windswept, permanently bed-head hair. And he can feel himself becoming aroused... Already.

And Antonio is biting his bottom lip, staring at him with a rather nervous expression. But he isn't stopping him; he's practically ignoring the fact that Francis is starting to rut against him like some animal in heat.

He only responds when Francis kisses him again, slowly and sensually and there's an immediate glimmer of pride when Antonio begins to kiss him back.

 _He loves him. He loves him. He absolutely_ adores _him._

Fingers now move from chocolatey-coloured curls down to a grubby, worn T-shirt that should've been thrown out years ago, and then slide under the fabric and up over firm muscles. Francis takes his time there, enjoying the feeling of hard pectorals under his fingertips. Antonio's worked on the farm with his mother ever since he was a child...

"Fuck me. Antoine, I need you to..."

He sounds needy. Fuck, worse than that, he sounds like a desperate whore.

But Antonio is still staring at him with a slightly unsure, but trusting expression. And only Antonio would stare at him with that kind of expression in this situation.

The T-shirt is the first thing to go. Antonio is silent, but lets him pull the offending fabric over his head and throw it onto the floor. And it really doesn't matter how many times he's seen Antonio shirtless, he'll never get over how absolutely  _perfect_ his body is.

"If you're sure, Franny." And he almost wants to laugh at the concern that's tinting Antonio's voice. Like Francis is some sort of innocent virgin that he's worried about tainting.

"I'm positive. Now stop asking." He wants Antonio to just  _do_  this and not worry so much about Francis's comfort. This is the last chance that he'll have to look into those beautiful emerald green eyes. The last chance he'll have to feel Antonio's arms around him.

At least his words seem to have relaxed Antonio a little bit. As he actually smiles slightly and rubs his fingers against the other boy's sides.

And Francis smiles back before he scoots closer, a momentary glint of pride when he feels that Antonio is already half-hard. Not that it really means anything. Antonio's a teenage guy after all; of course he's going to respond to someone grinding in his lap, no matter who that person is.

"Why—?" And another glimmer of pride when he grinds down and Antonio cuts himself off with a gasp. But then he heroically continues. "Wh-why did you say that to me, Fran?"

"Say what, Antoine?" Although he fears that he knows what he's talking about...

"Th-that you h-hated me."

And that's the question that Francis just  _can't_  answer. He can't tell Antonio that it's because he's going to leave him soon—for forever—and he'd wanted to make it a clean break.

God, it really would've been so much easier for both of them if Antonio had just believed him and let him make that clean break. Now... Now it's going to be so much more difficult. Although...he'll have this last memory at least.

Antonio is staring at him, waiting for his response. So he'll need to be distracted...

...It's a good thing that Francis is good at distractions.

This distraction consisting of a long, deep kiss while his hands move to unzip Antonio's jeans. And God, Francis wonders how he's ever managed to resist these lips. Antonio's hands are now tangled in his hair and he kisses back rather hesitantly, like he isn't entirely sure that he knows what he's doing.

Sometimes Francis wishes that he had it in him to hate Lovina. But he really can't...

"There're condoms in the nightstand," he murmurs into Antonio's ear when they break apart. And for a moment Antonio just stares at him, as if unsure what in the world he's talking about.

"Condoms. And lube. In the drawer." He rubs his cheek against Antonio's affectionately and then continues. "You said you didn't want to hurt me, so you'd better use a lot of it."

He knows that's not what Antonio meant, but it's easier if he pretends that's what Antonio meant.

And at least Antonio goes along with it; he stares at him for a moment, but then nods and leans over to open the nightstand drawer and rummage around the contents.

And both of them  _jump_ when something inside the drawer starts ringing.

_Fuck. Seriously? Now?_

He scowls when Antonio's hand returns from the depths of the drawer, holding an insistently-ringing cell phone.  _Seriously? Someone had to call him_ now _?_

"Ignore it, cher." He leans in again, a short, almost chaste kiss this time. Trying to ignore the stupid ringing.

"Who is it?" But Antonio's completely not paying attention. Too focused on the god-damn phone that Francis is going to  _destroy_ later.

"No one." He couldn't care less who it is. Or at least, he couldn't care less until he actually catches a glimpse of one of the words flashing on his screen.

_Hospital._

Shit...


	47. Chapter 47

They kept treating him like a hero. Arthur's parents, the nurses, even the doctor who'd come in at some point had commended him for saving the kid's life... Apparently news travelled fast in this place.

It was strange, since he sure as hell didn't  _feel_  like a hero. He mostly felt tired and a little freaked out. It'd been his first time pulling his gun in that sort of situation, after all. His hands had been shaking... Different than training and the shooting range. Actually pointing a weapon at another human being with the intention of shooting them if they didn't obey your order.

And then it'd been a rush of activity. Calling the ambulance, calling for another car to take the guys in to the station... Dealing with that mess while worrying over his stupid, obnoxious, idiotic temporary-roommate. Then he'd made his way to the hospital, where he'd met Arthur's family.

Which had been an experience. He'd already met the youngest step-brother when he'd brought Arthur's textbooks and clothing over to his apartment. Maxen, he remembered his name being. He'd been the first person Leon noticed when he walked into the waiting room. Sitting in one of the hard, uncomfortable, smurf-blue chairs, reading some magazine with a surprisingly serene expression. The middle step-brother was sitting beside him, tapping his foot impatiently as his gaze flicked back and forth between the television running infomercials in the corner and the oldest step-brother pacing the floor like a caged panther.

"That little  _bastard_. That little  _bastard_..."

Leon had just stood there rather awkwardly for a few moments, unsure about whether he should make his presence known or just wait until someone said something.

"You!"

Apparently he was going with the latter option, as the oldest step-brother noticed him after a few moments and immediately stomped over. ...And yes, Leon  _had_  taken an automatic step back, since the guy looked  _pissed_ and had at least half a foot on him.

"You. You're the one that saved the little bastard, aren't you?"

Assuming that 'little bastard' meant Arthur. "Um... Yes?"

And he was a little bit surprised when a hand was thrust toward him. "Thanks. The little bastard sure as fuck didn't deserve it, but... He's our brother and all and..." He paused, glanced toward the other two, and then continued, "Just, thanks."

"Um, you're welcome." Leon shook the hand rather self-consciously. "I mean, anybody would've done the same..."

"No." He cut him off. "For everything. For taking care of him and shit. He's a bastard, but he's our little brother and if it weren't for you, he'd be dead right now. So...thanks for watching out for him and everything..."

It'd been a little awkward, but Leon had been able to see the genuine gratitude in the man's eyes. And then Arthur's parents had walked into the room and the poor woman had looked near death herself. Her eyes were red and puffy, surrounded by dark circles that testified to too many sleepless nights. Her husband had kept a hand on her lower back, as if it was the only thing holding her upright. Which it may have been for all Leon knew.

They'd both thanked him and then led him to Arthur's hospital room, where he'd proceeded to sit down on the unoccupied bed and watch as Arthur's mother sat in the chair beside the unconscious boy. Taking his hand in hers with what looked like a tight grip. His step-father paused in the doorway for a moment, and then walked across the room to stand near the window and gaze outside.

And honestly? Leon immediately started feeling sick and angry and fucked and... God, he hated hospitals. They all had the same feel, the same smell. They brought back unwanted memories...

But he'd just sat there, waiting for the "little bastard" to wake up.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault."

And the woman's words had surprised him at first, since they'd been sitting in silence for quite a while.

But he supposed it shouldn't have. Of course she'd need to talk, and of course she'd blame herself. It was the natural thing to do when someone you loved got hurt...

And her husband gave the natural response, "It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself."

"We shouldn't have lied to him. We should have told him the  _truth_."

"What's done is done, Tessa. We're just going to have to live with our mistakes..."

Leon felt uncomfortable. Like he shouldn't be here, like he was intruded on a personal, family moment. So he interrupted, reluctantly, "The doctor said that he should be waking up soon. Do you want me to go?"

The man turned from the window to gaze at him, and then shook his head. "No. To be honest, I think he'll be more willing to talk to  _you_  than to us."

He really  _shouldn't_ , but knowing Arthur's stubbornness... "If you're sure..."

"Arthur?"

They both turned at the soft, nervous question. And then Leon felt a jolt of relief as he watched the boy's eyelids flutter. Waking up, finally...

"Oh, thank God..." Tessa leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from the boy's face as he blinked up at her, expression a mixture of exhaustion and confusion.

"Mum?"

"Hi, sweetie... How are you feeling?"

Leon  _definitely_ felt like he was intruding now... He turned his head and stared at the vase of flowers that had been set on the windowsill. Vaguely wondering where they'd come from... Who knew that Arthur was in the hospital right now? His friends probably hadn't been told yet...

Arthur's stepfather—he'd told Leon to call him Clay—turned from the window and gazed at the figure on the bed with a carefully-blank expression for a few moments before he spoke. "He's probably higher than a kite with all the painkillers they got him on."

"What—?" And Arthur somehow managed to  _sound_ almost as bad as he looked, which was really an impressive feat. His eyes roamed the room; he was probably trying to put all the pieces together and figure out where he was and what had happened.

And then he noticed Leon.

And Leon was rather startled by the expression of surprise that darted across Arthur's face when their eyes met. Shock, almost. As if Leon was the last person that he'd expected to see here. Which was rather stupid, actually. Of course Leon would be here. He had to make sure the kid that he'd been worrying over for the last week or so was okay, after all...

"Your leg's broken, kid." Clayton spoke again. "A couple cracked ribs and you're pretty much one big bruise right now. Count yourself lucky that Leon here showed up when he did." And Arthur's gaze immediately darted away at that. "You got off pretty light considering who you were fucking around with..."

"Clay, don't..." Tessa tried to stop him—and he did pause for a moment. Walked around the bed to stand behind her, rested a hand on her shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly. "I'm not gonna sugar coat it, Tessa. If Leon hadn't shown up when he did, Arthur here would be dead. Those aren't the kind of guys who are gonna put up with some punk trying to play it tough."

Yeah... That thought hit Leon rather uncomfortably. If he'd arrived just a few minutes later, Arthur would've been dead. He'd be booking those guys for murder, instead of assault. This family would be mourning one of their children.

And it would've been at least partly Leon's fault... His grandmother, the Chief, Arthur's teachers... They all wanted him to make some sort of difference in the kid's life. Convince him to return to the straight and narrow. And he'd obviously failed so far...

"But he's okay now." Tessa sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that fact. "Arthur's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

He did have one more option, though... One that he would have infinitely preferred to never use. But... what else could he do?

Part of him wondered if this was the real reason his grandmother had wanted him here. She'd somehow managed to anticipate this moment... It wouldn't really surprise him, to be honest. She was one of the few people who knew about everything that had happened, after all...

And she'd probably also known that he'd end up actually  _liking_ the kid inexplicably.

Which was why he broke through their little family gathering and asked "Would it be all right if I talk to Arthur for a little bit?"

Their response was startling. Not that he'd expected Arthur's parents to say no, but he hadn't expected them to respond so quickly. And he  _definitely_ hadn't anticipated Tessa walking over to him, bending down, and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

An almost desperate hug as she murmured, "please..." Her voice was soft and rough. "Please help him."

Even if Leon  _hadn't_ managed to grow fond of the kid, and even if he  _hadn't_  felt that guilty needto at least  _try_  to fix this, he rather doubted that he'd have ever been able to resist an anxious request like that.

Which was why he immediately nodded, his hand moving to rest on her arm for a moment. Squeezing in an attempt at reassurance.

She smiled and then turned toward her son again. "We'll be back later, Arthur."

And then they left the room, Clayton's arms wrapped around her shoulders... Leaving him alone with a silent, rather seriously injured Arthur.

...You know, maybe he should go on vacation to Malibu or somewhere like that after this.

The kid was staring at him—Leon could tell without even looking at him—and there was a thick tension in the room, as if they were both waiting for the other to speak.

And he might as well get this over with. He was supposed to be the adult here, after all. "You were planning on running away, weren't you?"

Not that he had to ask; since he'd known the moment he laid eyes on the broken phone in his living room. And Arthur seemed to realise that there was no point in lying, as he answered with a quiet "Yes."

"I thought so." You know, it was funny—not in a comical way, but in a sort of pathetic, sad way—how people had a tendency to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Couldn't seem to learn from the mistakes that others had made; they just had to go and make them all themselves. "You know, I'm rather amazed that I found you when I did. It was pure luck or providence or something like that... I called Francis to ask if he knew where you were, but he had no idea. So I thought, 'where is the one place in the town where Arthur should definitely  _not_ be wandering around alone late at night?' and there you were."

Now Leon turned to look the kid over. He looked tired and his face was absolutely covered in a mixture of bruises and bandages. He looked like an exhausted, hurt teenager... Staring at him with practically-emotionless eyes.

God, he hated this... "You know, I have a confession to make..." Leon sighed and then lifted his legs from where they'd been dangling off the edge of the bed and folded them against his body, resting his chin on his knees. A childish position—like he was trying to protect himself from the big, scary monsters—but it was comforting. And he really didn't want to think about any of this...

"I haven't really been doing any of this out of altruism," he continued, too fast. The words tumbling from his mouth as he stared unseeingly at the bouquet. A blur of colours and vague shapes. "Taking you in, following you, saving your life... Your parents keep treating me like I'm some sort of hero when it's really nothing like that. If it were just up to me, I'd probably have let you run away."

...And he hadn't actually planned on saying that. But, fuck, it was true. He hadn't _wanted_  to get involved in something like this. This town was supposed to be his chance to start over, prove he could take care of himself and wasn't  _completely_  fucked in the head... They'd forced him to move to the same town as his grandmother, yes, but that wasn't supposed to affect anything...

And what'd happened instead? He'd gotten personally involved with some kid who reminded him  _way_ too much of himself at that age...

Great job on the whole "starting over" shit. But then, this was his punishment, wasn't it? He was going to have to relive everything...

"I  _am_ only twenty, you know. Not really old enough to deal with a teenager. And you've been a complete pain in the ass ever since I got here. But I had to at least  _try_ to help you... Because you're like I was at your age and..." Because that was the problem, wasn't it? Leon couldn't let someone else make those same mistakes. "And I don't want you making the same mistakes I made."


	48. Chapter 48

' _I don't want you making the same mistakes I made...'_

"So, what?" And  _that_  statement had actually managed to surprise him. What sort of mistakes had  _Leon_ made that were so bad? He seemed to be Mr. Morality around here, after all. Goody goody cop, trying to help the kid who had strayed back onto the straight and narrow. "You had a little teenage rebellion of your own way-back-when?"

Leon didn't immediately respond to Arthur's question, which gave the teenager a few free moments to attempt to shift into a less-painful position. Whatever pain killers they had him on must be wearing off, because he could feel a fuckload of pain starting to creep up on him. And shifting didn't really help at all, unfortunately.

"You could say that, I suppose," Leon finally responded as he distractedly twisted at the bed sheets beneath him. "Something like that, at least."

Huh.

Part of Arthur's brain was currently yelling at him to just tell the guy to fuck off and leave him alone. He didn't want his meddling and he sure as hell didn't want to hear him tell some story about how he'd 'seen the light' or whatever. Changed his ways.

But another part of him...and this part actually seemed to be  _stronger_... Well, that part  _wanted_ to listen.

This was the guy who'd taken him in as a complete stranger, after all. He treated him  _kindly_ even after Arthur acted like a complete dick. He'd  _saved his fucking life_. And he was  _still here_  for some unfathomable reason.

"So..." Maybe he could later blame this on all of the drugs they were pumping into him. "What the fuck did  _you_ do, then?"

Leon finally glanced up at that. A sad smile twitching over his lips before he glanced toward the window. "I ran away from home—I told you that I didn't want you to make the same mistakes as I did. I ran away from home when I was fourteen and my mother ended up dying because of it."

And...that was rather unexpected.

He'd been anticipating something more along the lines of some under-age drinking, drugs—minor shit like that. Although he supposed that it made sense. If Leon was a former run-away, then that would explain why he was so invested in making sure that Arthur didn't completely fuck up his life.

And he watched as Leon settled himself against the headboard of the bed he'd apparently claimed as his own for now and actually met his eyes. "My dad died when I was six, so it was just my mom and me for most of my life. He was a police officer, killed in the line of duty. Couple of men robbed a bank—only got away with about two thousand dollars. They hadn't gotten the APB out yet or something, my dad pulled the car over for a traffic violation, and they shot him four times, close range. He managed to injure them both and they're in prison for life now, but..." He paused and made a vague motion with his hand that Arthur assumed meant something along the lines of 'fuck of a lot of good it did  _us_ '.

"I guess that explains why none of us knew that Big Mike had a kid...grandkid...you know..." Arthur made his own vaguely dismissive gesture. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really know all that much about Big Mike in general. She liked pulling pranks; she'd kind of always been there, making biscuits for the neighbourhood children...

Leon nodded. "Yeah. After Dad died we basically broke off contact with Grandmother. She and my mother never really got along particularly well..." He paused, frowned, and then continued, "And then afterwards, Mom just kind of... I think she  _tried_  to go on without him, but she couldn't. There'd be weeks—sometimes even months—where she'd be okay. She'd find a job, remember to buy groceries, make sure I got to school every day, go to her support group meetings. But then, something would happen and we'd just...lose her again. She'd spend days locked in her bedroom; she wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. I'd have to go and stay at my best friend's house whenever it happened. His parents would go over and take care of her or, if it was really bad, they'd call for my aunt to fly out. She was in the hospital a few times, I think..."

He shook his head and glanced toward Arthur for a moment before sighing, "I don't really  _know_. Everybody tried to keep me as in-the-dark as possible... Which—they meant well—but I don't know if it was really the best thing to do." He paused, stare unfocused.

"You said you left home?" Arthur questioned, interested despite himself.

Leon hurriedly nodded, "When I was fourteen, yeah. It was...stupid. Completely idiotic. Chris's family had left for the week—an uncle who lived on the other side of the country had passed away, I think—and then my aunt and uncle were travelling overseas. Which left me at home with my mother. And she had an...episode, I guess... She locked herself in her room; I could hear her sobbing for hours at a time. I was terrified and angry; I tried calling everyone I could think of, but couldn't get a hold of anyone. And eventually I just decided that I couldn't deal with it anymore and walked out."

"And how long were you gone?"

And Arthur was rather shocked when Leon responded with "Four months."

"Seriously? How the hell did you manage that?" He'd been expecting something along the lines of a couple weeks at most...

"Well, I left home with a couple hundred dollars. I bought myself a ticket to the nearest large city and then—it was during the summer, so I basically just spent my days wandering around and then slept wherever I could find. And then I met Ada and she helped me...in her own way..." He frowned and then made a dismissive motion. "Anyway. I only really stayed away that long because I had basically convinced myself that everyone would be better off without me. If my mom didn't have to focus on me, then maybe she'd focus on herself instead."

"But then you decided to come back."

Leon nodded and then leaned forward slightly. "Yes, because running away didn't solve  _anything_. All it did was hurt everyone else who cared about me. Course, it took me four months to figure that out because I've always been stubborn like that... Ada left, I ended up getting sick, and then I  _finally_  realised what an idiot I'd been and tried to find my way back home. Didn't actually get very far. I ended up collapsing by the side of the road somewhere; somebody found me and took me to the hospital and I woke up to Chris having a complete meltdown in my room." His lips twitched slightly in what looked like amusement, but then he sobered. "They waited until the next day to tell me that my mom had killed herself three weeks after I left."

Oh...

Leon didn't really give him any time to react to that pronouncement, as he hurriedly continued, "Look, I'm not saying this so you can pity me or anything. I just don't want you to make a decision that you're going to regret later. I know that I would give  _anything_ to go back and do things over... And I know that there are a lot of people here that care about you, so..."

And now he hesitated, as if unsure how to finish.

Which Arthur supposed was appropriate, since he wasn't entirely sure how he wanted to respond. He  _should_  want to tell him to fuck off, since this was none of his business. Arthur was allowed to make his own choices and fuck the consequences. But at the same time...

He didn't  _want_ to deal with this or think about this. He just wanted to get out of here. Disappear across the ocean and never have to deal with any of this shit anymore. But...

...Fuck, the bastard was getting to him.

He really didn't know what to think right now. He'd almost died earlier and now he was shaken and second-guessing himself. And seeing his mother like that had done something too.

"Anyway, I should probably get going." Leon stood, glancing back toward the door. "You're probably pretty tired, right?"

He shrugged in response, not really wanting to admit that he  _was_ rather exhausted. Probably the drugs and everything. "Yeah, I guess."

"Okay, then. Just maybe think about what I said, okay?" He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet for a few seconds, as if he were thinking. "And my apartment's still open if you ever want to stay over or anything. If you ever want to get away from your family, or whatever."

Arthur just nodded once in response and watched as Leon stood there for another moment before smiling slightly and turning toward the door. But then, before he could actually leave, he suddenly jerked out a "Thanks, Leon. For, you know, everything..."

Leon froze for a couple seconds, hand on the doorknob. And then he turned and sent him an actual smile. "You're very welcome, Arthur." And then he slid out the door and let it close behind him.

Leaving Arthur alone with just his thoughts and a bunch of overly-cheerful flowers.


	49. Chapter 49

Fucking idiot. Arthur was a fucking  _idiot..._

"I'm sure he's fine, Francis." Antonio's hand was resting against Francis's thigh, keeping him grounded and sane. "Maxen said that he just has a broken leg and some cracked ribs, so he should be okay, sí?"

He knew that. Because of  _course_  he'd be fine; he was  _Arthur fucking Kirkland_. The bastard was too stubborn to not be fine. It was just... _fuck_ , this was too much all at once.

He'd almost had sex with Antonio. He  _would have_ had sex with Antonio if Maxen hadn't interrupted when he did. And he was so angry and simultaneously absolutely  _relieved..._ Because Antonio was too good for him; he'd always known that and it was like the rest of the universe knew it too. Even the vast cosmos of the universe knew that Francis shouldn't be allowed to corrupt his best friend for such selfish reasons.

He needed to get out of here. And if he had to leave Arthur behind— _God, he hoped he could leave him. No matter how obnoxious he was, Arthur didn't deserve this either_ —then so be it.

"Franny?"

"Oui." And he hurriedly turned toward Antonio, forcing a reassuring smile onto his lips. "Oui, he's fine. We're just going to go check on him and tell him he's an idiot for getting hurt like that."

Antonio frowned slightly, and the expression looked so  _wrong_ on his face. "Franny, shouldn't we talk about..."

Francis immediately shook his head. "Non. Not now." They wouldn't  _ever_ talk about what had almost happened if he had his way. "Later."

"Sí." He didn't look very happy about it. "But, Franny, I just want you to be happy. And I don't..."

And Francis immediately turned at that, leaning across the seat and taking the other boy's face in his hands. Then he pressed a quick, chaste kiss against his lips before leaning back with a smile. " _You_  make me happy, Antoine. Don't worry about anything."

That wasn't enough to  _completely_  stop Antonio from worrying, but it was all he could do for now. And at least they'd finally arrived at the hospital. He immediately pushed the door open as soon as they pulled into a parking spot, jumping out...

And they apparently had  _amazing_ timing, since look who was walking toward them right now.

"Leon!"

The man started at the unexpected call, but managed to astonishingly quickly shove that surprise down under a more relaxed expression. "Francis, I was just wondering if someone'd managed to get a hold of you. I figured I'd call myself after I got home. I mean, I assume you came to see Arthur? I think that he's probably still talking with his parents, but I'm sure they'll let you wait to see him."

He'd shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and walked toward him, looking pretty calm. Which was a good sign; it meant that Arthur was probably doing okay if Leon wasn't acting like a worried mother hen.

"Maxen called and told me that Arthur went off and nearly got himself killed." It was kind of funny, with most people Francis had to actively switch into his flirting voice, with Leon it seemed to be a natural response. Probably because of the way he always coloured so entertainingly. "Then you had to go and be his knight in shining armour."

"Don't let Arthur hear you saying that." His expression changed slightly as he drew closer, though. His lips twisted down into a slight frown and he peered at him more closely. He didn't even seem to notice as Antonio came up behind them. "Hey, are you okay, Francis? You don't really look good."

And it'd just figure that Leon would pick that up within a few seconds of seeing him. Francis plastered a smirk across his lips as he moved closer, "I'm not the one got his ass kicked and sent to the hospital, cher. But thank you for the concern."

He felt a slight twinge of something like uneasiness when Leon's expression didn't immediately change to something more annoyed or resigned... He just kept staring at him, as if he were practicing his telepathy or something.

"Did something happen?" He at least seemed to finally notice Antonio's presence, glancing toward him before shifting his gaze back to Francis. Which gave Francis a moment to forcibly school his features into something hopefully close to amusement.

"The only thing that happened, cher, is that I discovered that Arthur is a complete damsel in distress..." And he almost wished that he  _were_ staying here, because the amount of taunting that he could inflict on Arthur because of that...

But he couldn't stay. And he needed to get out of here as soon as possible, while Arthur was safe in the hospital and before Antonio or Leon could figure out what he was planning.

"So, what room is he in?"

And at least Leon wasn't the sort of person to push when it was obvious Francis didn't want to talk about what had happened. He continued to  _frown_ , but then he responded with, "Room two two three. If you need to talk, Fran—"

Francis immediately waved a hand to cut him off. "Non, non. You go and return to your knightly duties. Protect the streets from criminals and your various other bad guys." He smirked at the rather annoyed look that Leon sent him. "Come along, Antoine. I'm sure Arthur will be overjoyed to see us."

And he hurriedly turned away and began walking toward the entrance, not even bothering to watch and make sure that Antonio was following. Which would have been the polite thing to do, since his friend was still on crutches, but...

He didn't like the feeling of being scrutinised, especially by someone who seemed to actually be able to read him. It was disconcerting.

 _He'd leave tonight_. That was the decision he'd finally made; he couldn't risk staying here any longer. By this time tomorrow, he'd be on a plane flying across the Atlantic Ocean. Then after he arrived, he'd simply disappear. It'd be easy.

"Franny?" The hardest part was the whole 'forcing himself to actually do it'. He immediately stopped and turned, waiting as Antonio hobbled toward him. Expression rather adorably focused as he manoeuvred himself around the people bustling in the hospital foyer. He almost ran right into a little kid, but somehow managed to shuffle around her at the last moment.

"Oui, cher?"

"You'll tell me if something is wrong with you, right, Franny?" And Antonio was staring at him with this worried expression. "You promise you won't keep secrets from me, sí? I don't  _want_  you to keep secrets from me."

A little too late for that. Definitely too late for that.

"Of course, cher." But it was easy to lie. Because if he didn't, then everything would fall apart. He slipped into the elevator, using his arm to hold the door open so Antonio could hobble his way inside. Then laughed as he slid across the small space after the doors closed, pressing a hand against the other boy's lower back. "We've been in hospitals so often recently, haven't we? No more after this, oui."

"No. I don't like hospitals. Their food isn't very good. Lovi complained about it lots while she was here."

Of course she had. Francis allowed his hand to lower a bit, just as the door opened to reveal an older woman whose eyes widened in a scandalized expression.

Which of course Antonio didn't notice, because he was adorably oblivious like that. Francis just sent the woman his most charming smile and gently pushed his friend forward. "Come on, Antoine. Time to tease our cher ami  _mercilessly_."

And then he'd leave tonight.


	50. Chapter 50

Something had definitely been wrong with Francis.

It was kind of strange in a way; Leon had only known these kids for a couple of weeks now and he already could read them surprisingly well. Then again, his family members and friends had always said he had a knack for noticing the little details about people. It was one of the things that had helped him when he'd acted in high school.

Francis had been extremely upset when they'd run into each other in the hospital parking lot. He'd been trying to hide it behind his normal flirtatiousness, but you could tell if you looked hard enough that something was seriously wrong.

Leon had made his way back to his apartment after his visit with Arthur and was now trying to distract himself from worrying about them. Keep himself busy.

He'd started working through one of the boxes he hadn't yet had a chance to unpack, while simultaneously creating a shopping list in his head that he'd write down once he found the pad of paper that he was pretty sure he'd packed in this box.  _Milk, eggs; he needed scotch tape…_

"Leon!"

And somehow Leon had known that something would happen that would kill any hope at productivity. He pushed the box aside with his foot and leaned back against his couch, wondering for a moment how she'd found his house. He didn't have to think about it for long, though, because how else? His grandmother must have told her.

Gillian's shout had come from outside, possibly from all the way down at the end of the hallway. It would only take a few seconds before she threw his door open with her whirlwind enthusiasm. Although, to be honest, he wouldn't mind much. Give him something else to focus on.

"Leon!" And there she was. Leon glanced toward the door as it swung open so hard that it ended up bouncing against the wall. She'd probably left a mark that  _he'd_ end up having to cover.

"Found you, Leon!" Gill whirled into the room and threw herself down beside him at the couch, knocking over a (thankfully empty) glass that he'd left on the coffee table in the process. "Big Mike gave me your address, but I couldn't remember it exactly, so I had to ask a whole bunch of people if they knew where you lived. It took me forever to find someone who did!" She lifted her still-booted feet and dropped them on the table, which caused the (thankfully empty) glass to now roll onto the floor, which caused Leon to vaguely wondered how her parents had kept their house from being totally destroyed by the one-girl-twister.

"Hello, Gill." He leaned over to pick up the glass and set it back on the coffee table, far away from her feet. "I guess I should've expected you to come visit me at some point…"

"Of course I came to visit you! Big Mike told me that you got into a fight!"

…Huh?

That didn't sound good. Leon wasn't even going to question how his grandmother had found out about what had happened; she  _always_ found out about things before it should be possible for her to know about them. A  _fight_ , though…

"She said I got into a  _what_?"

Gill looked incredibly excited, which Leon found rather worrying. She had a wicked grin and had sat up straight and now looked as if she were preparing to tell an astounding epic. "You were in an awesome fight! Big Mike said that you got into a fight with  _five ninjas_! She said that they were beating someone up and that one of them had a katana and another had nunchucks and then the others all had those throwing star things—I think Kiku called them shurkens—and your gun had run out of bullets so all you had was a knife to battle them with! She said that you had to take them all on at once and that you managed to put all of them in the  _hospital_ , which was totally awesome!"

…

…

Leon wondered if there was any way you could test grandmaternity.

"I battled  _ninjas_ …"

Gill nodded and then jumped up and randomly walked out of the room and into his kitchen, where she opened the fridge and pulled out his carton of milk. " _Five_  ninjas."

"Where did these ninjas come from?"

"They were probably friends of Kiku that turned bad. Kiku's secretly a ninja, did you know that? He's all sneaky and he doesn't talk much and he hides places and takes pictures of people or draws them. Don't tell him I told you, though. Otherwise he might start using his ninja powers for evil." And she had found a box of Lucky Charms that he was ninety-seven percent certain he hadn't bought. "Although he does sell the pictures to Eli and Lizzie sometimes, so that's kind of evil…"

Leon was pretty sure he wasn't following this conversation very well. "Who?"

She was now presumably looking for a bowl—not in the right cupboard, though. "Eli and Lizzie. They're really really strange. Eli's still pretty awesome, but Lizzie is completely  _un_ awesome. Super unawesome."

Leon wasn't entirely sure how to take  _Gill_ calling someone else strange. That could either mean they were relatively normal—at least in the eyes of the average person—or it could mean they were at some level of insanity almost unimaginable in its bizarreness.

Knowing his luck, it was probably the second.

"So, Grandmother told you that I fought a bunch of ninjas. Did she say  _who_ they were beating up?"

She hesitated for a moment—she'd finally found the bowls and was now pouring a huge amount of cereal into one of them—and then shook her head, "Nope! Was it a pretty damsel in distress? You could be like a knight, then! Except you fight ninjas instead of dragons!"

People in this town must have a weird obsession with fairy tales or something. And Grandmother had definitely  _known_ who it was that he'd helped; she'd apparently just decided not to tell Gill for whatever reason. He sighed and glared at the door, wishing he could psychically send her a message that would express his disapproval. Not that she'd care, but it was the principal of the thing.

"No, it was Arthur. And they weren't ninjas." Probably should have pointed that out first. "There were just a couple of men."

"Arthur?" And he glanced toward her, startled by the tone of her voice. She was just standing there, staring at him, and he had a flashback to that day when he saw her walking in the rain. She was standing still and she looked almost sad.

Leon found that he didn't like that. Even if she was tiring, it felt wrong to see her just standing there and not bouncing all over the place like a little tornado. Her lips downturned slightly and then she asked, "Did he get hurt?"

Leon hesitated. Then, "Somewhat. His leg's broken, but he's going to be fine."

To which she responded with a barely-perceptible nod. Her expression was rather pensive. Then she calmly stated, "I wish he'd gotten more hurt."

…Rather unexpected response. "Real—"

"He's the one who made Francis and Antonio start acting so unawesomely!" The words burst from her like she'd been holding them back and somebody'd just poked a hole in the dam. "Antonio's acting better, but Franny's still with him and he's sad and it's… it's completely unawesome! So Arthur should've gotten more hurt than that!"

Ah…

Leon wasn't sure what to say to that. It wasn't like he could really argue. Partly because he didn't really know what any of them had been like  _before_ he arrived and partly because he'd guess that she was probably at least  _somewhat_  right…

He knew she should try to respond, though. Because it was obvious that Gill was upsetand she was currently standing there with her cereal bowl, looking at him as if she expected some wise response. He really should be getting paid for this. "That's…understandable, really."

She nodded and then grabbed her bowl and a spoon and walked over to the couch, thankfully not bouncing herself down this time. And then he watched in bemusement as she began  _attacking_  the cereal as if it had personally offended her.

"But, I think you should maybe talk with him. I think Arthur's changing… Slowly." He stretched his legs out and watched as her movement s slowed for a second before she continued with her speed-eating. Hopefully she didn't make herself sick. "I think he's starting to understand that his actions aren't helping anything."

"Franny's still sad, though…"

That was true. Francis was definitely still upset about something.

…You know, this really wasn't any of his business. He was a newcomer, after all; he shouldn't be getting involved with all of this drama.

Unfortunately, he'd never been particularly good at minding his own business when it was obvious that someone was hurting. Even if that person was rather annoying. And he knew that there was no way he was going to be able to just walk away and ignore what was happening.

"What if I talk to Francis? It might help."

And Gill looked up at him, her oddly-coloured eyes showing surprise for a moment before her expression changed to some sort of joyous relief. "You'll talk to Franny? That would be awesome! You can make him feel happier!"

…What did he keep talking himself into?


	51. Chapter 51

It was rather difficult to fit everything that you'd need for the rest of your life into a single backpack. A few sets of clothing, some important trinkets, money and necessary paperwork. Francis had to squeeze the bag tightly in order to get it to zip closed.

He'd decided not to bother with breaking into his parents' safe. If Arthur wasn't coming then he didn't  _need_  the money and it would only take time he didn't want to waste. He had a few hundred dollars, the only-to-be-used-in-an-emergency money that his parents had left for him long ago. It would suffice until he found something to do in Paris.

No one would notice his absence for a few days at least. And by then, he'd be long gone. Disappeared into the shadows of a foreign city. It wasn't like his parents would look particularly hard for him, too. Especially since he hadn't stolen any of their money.

It was late and the house was quiet, most of the servants had either gone back to their homes or were asleep in their beds. The ones who  _were_  still awake were easily avoidable, especially for someone who'd been sneaking out of the house since he was seven-years-old. Francis settled his bag securely on his back and then crept through the hallways in his socks, carrying his shoes. He'd wait to put them on 'til he reached the main foyer.

Antonio would be heartbroken when he found out that Francis was gone, but he knew that it was all for the best. Today had shattered any doubt that he may have held otherwise.

No one saw him as he walked silently through the many hallways of this too-big, too-empty house. He'd miss Antonio and Gill and Arthur and most other people in this town, but he definitely wouldn't miss this place. Maybe they'd sell it once he was gone. Maybe a family that actually lived together would move in. Or maybe it'd remain empty and someday they'd tear it down to make way for a store or something.

Francis noticed that his hands were trembling as he knelt down in the entryway and lacked up his shoes. This was terrifying; his stomach felt like it'd been knotted up. But there was no other way… He couldn't stand to stay here like this. And he'd hurt Antonio if he stayed… He'd proven that already.

He sighed and stood, taking a deep breath before he pushed the door open and stepped outside.

And ran right into Leon.

…Okay, scratch what he'd thought at the hospital about Leon having perfect timing. He had the  _worst_  timing ever.

For a long moment, the two of them just stood there and stared at each other in bewilderment. The only thoughts going through Francis's mind went something like 'Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This is going to ruin everything unless I manage to think fast enough…'

Leon just looked disoriented; he'd probably been working up to knocking or ringing the doorbell or whatever and then he hadn't had to… He was the first to respond, though, by taking a quick step backwards and exclaiming "Francis!"

"Oui?" The response was testier than usual, but Leon was about to fuck up his escape. "What are you doing here, cher?"

"I was… just looking for you. Well," he quickly back-pedaled, "Well, obviously I was looking for you. I meant I was looking for you so we could talk..." He eyed Francis's backpack and frowned slightly. "You going somewhere?"

He had to talk his way out of this. Thankfully that was something he'd had a lot of practice doing… He made a quick, dismissive movement with his hand. "Just spending the night at a friend's house. Why did you want to talk?"

And Leon definitely wasn't falling for it, Francis could tell  _that_  immediately. He eyed the backpack again and raised an eyebrow as if saying 'Uh huh, of course you are'.

That was…unexpected. Francis was used to people either trusting him implicitly—like Antonio or Gill—or just not caring enough to question him—like most of his parents' servants. Leon was staring at him like he was waiting for a more believable lie.

He didn't wait for Francis to think of something, though, as he just calmly questioned, "You're running away, aren't you?"

Arthur must have told him… Fuck, Francis would go and strangle the asshole if he had the time to do it.

He wasn't sure what he should do now. He had to get out of here  _tonight_ …

"Of course not, cher," he lied, slipping into his flirting tone. He knew that it sounded more strained than usual, but what else could he do? Even though he also knew that Leon would notice. "I'm just going to spend the night with a  _friend_. Although, if you're interested, then I suppose we could always reschedule."

Leon actually  _rolled his eyes_ at that. "Don't lie to me, Francis. I'm a cop; it's part of my job to be good at telling when people are lying to me."

It was unfortunate that Leon was completely fucking up his plans, since Francis was starting to really like him. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine, cher. Yes, I'm leaving. What do you wish to do? Arrest me?"

"Of course not." They were glaring at each other now and mirroring each other's crossed arms. It might have struck Francis as comical in normal circumstances, but right now... He just wanted to get the fuck out of here.

Leon was the first to break, at least. He dropped his arms and sighed, then glanced back toward his car—the one Francis had given him—as if he wanted to just leave. Which Francis hoped he would. Of course, he didn't. "Fran… Why don't we talk about this in the car? It's freezing out here."

"I'd rather not." Maybe he'd be lucky and Leon  _would_ leave if he was difficult enough. Besides, who knew where Leon would take him 'for his own good' if he got into the car with him? "Why don't you just go home, cher? It's late. You must be tired." He somehow managed to force a smile.

Leon didn't respond for a few moments; he just stared at him with an inscrutable expression and then glanced back at the car. Francis was slightly surprised when he asked, "You're taking a plane to wherever you're going, right?"

Francis frowned, but then reluctantly answered, "Yes…"

"How about we make a deal, then?" Leon slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "I can guess that whatever you're planning on doing is incredibly unsafe and illegal, right?"

He wasn't entirely sure if he was meant to respond to that or not.

Leon didn't wait long to continue, so probably not. "So here's what I'm willing to do. If you really want to leave, then I'm not going to stop you. However, I won't let you go unless I know that you're going to be safe. So we can go talk to my grandmother; I'm sure she knows someone that you can stay with for however long you need to stay and she can figure out how to do this legally."

…Francis hesitated, searching Leon's expression for any sign that he was trying to trick him. This was…surprising. He'd expected that Leon would just march him inside and tell one of the servants what he'd been planning. They'd probably lock him up for good in this prison-house. Instead… "You'll tell Antonio and Gill where I am," he finally remarked.

Leon shrugged. "Not if you don't want me too. Although, I think it'd be nice if you let me tell them that you're safe. I don't think you really want them to worry about you."

He sure didn't  _deserve_  help from anybody, though, or any people at home caring and worrying about him. He'd almost tainted his best friend… But the offer was tempting, because he'd honestly been terrified by the idea of setting out completely on his own with very little money.

"Of course, Grandmother will want you to keep in contact with her so she knows you're okay, but other than that, you won't need to talk to anybody from here."

"Not even  _you_?"

And Francis felt a little twinge of amusement when Leon seemed honestly startled by the question. He dropped the casual expression he'd been holding during his speech and stared at Francis with confused eyes for a moment. Then he blushed faintly and glanced away for a second or two before seeming to regain control over himself. "Well, if you wanted to…"

"You're adorable, cher." He shifted the weight of the backpack, which was incredibly heavy by the way, and walked past Leon toward the car. "Fine, I will go and talk with Big Mike with you, but I'm not promising anything."

Leon hesitated for a few seconds and then hurried to catch up with him. "Good. I mean, you know Grandmother. She won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

Which was the only reason Francis was agreeing to this. He waited as Leon unlocked the car and then slid inside, setting the backpack down by his feet. Watching as Leon not-so-gracefully flopped into the driver's seat and began fiddling with his phone.

This could  _possibly_ work. He knew that Big Mike wasn't the type of person who would go against his wishes. And having a home, at least for a while, wouldn't be entirely unwelcome. And if he  _really_ hated it, then he could always disappear once he was on the other side of the ocean.

"Hello, Grandmother? No, I'm not… No!" Leon was adorable when he looked confused. "No, what are you… Grandmother, I—what? Yes. Yes, she told me about the ninjas. Thanks for that. Now I'm apparently a ninja fighter…" Francis had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded amusing. It was strange, but he actually felt slightly more relaxed in here. Relaxed enough that he slid his hand over to settle on Leon's upper thigh.

He got it swatted away, but Leon seemed to remember what he was supposed to be talking about. "Anyway, Grandmother, I'm bringing Francis over. Is anybody else there? …Okay. Okay, good. We'll be right over. Good—no, I'm not. Goodbye."

He hung up the phone and dropped it down into the cup holder with a sigh.

"I'm a hundred percent certain that someone mixed something up when I was born, because I don't know how else we could be related."

"But there are so many similarities, cher. You both are stubborn about trying to save the lost causes."

And that earned him a genuine smile before Leon turned his attention to starting the car and turning it around. "Can't just write 'em off too early. Plenty of lost causes end up not so lost."


	52. Chapter 52

"There's another one!"

Gill practically  _screamed_ those words, managing to draw startled looks from dozens of people who probably wondered what in the world was doing on. Not that she noticed, as she was too busy being excited and running up to the glass wall separating her from the runway. Thankfully, as Francis had no doubt that she'd run right  _onto_ a runway if given the option, just so she could get a 'closer look' at the planes.

He absolutely loved her, but Gill did not have the strongest survival instinct.

Right now she was leaning as close to the glass as possible, leaving little breath marks as she pressed her hands against the surface. He could see an airplane slowly descending toward the runway from where he was sitting, its landing gear extended. Gillian's eyes were so wide that she looked like an owl and now she spun around and exclaimed cheerfully, "I'm gonna fly a plane someday!"

Francis just smiled in response as he re-zippered his carry-on after a last minute check. Wallet, passport, emergency cash, a change of clothes in case his bags were lost, some basic toiletries... "Of course you will, Gilly."

She nodded, obviously pleased by his reassurance and then glanced back just as the plane touched down. "I'll be the most awesome pilot in the entire world! I'll even fly jet planes and go faster than the speed of sound!"

He'd missed Gillian; he'd missed her infectious enthusiasm about  _everything_  and he way that picked a different career to pursue every other week—most of them things like lion trainer, ice cream taste tester, monster truck driver. It meant Francis didn't have to be  _too_  worried about the safety of thousands of airline travelers.

She nodded again and then returned to her spot at the window, now marked by the handprints she'd left on the glass.

It was insane… Francis turned his head toward where Antonio was sitting beside him, leaning against a pillar, fast asleep. It'd only been a few days ago that he was about to run away with the hope that he'd never see either of them again.

"So, you ready?"

Francis had expected the question. He took his time responding, though. Stretched his arms over his head before he looked up at Leon and nodded. "Oui, I'm ready."

~.~.~

The trip up to Big Mike's house that night had been quiet. Leon had seemed to be both lost in his own thoughts and intently focused on driving the car. Francis had switched the radio onto a soft rock station after a few minutes because he couldn't stand the silence. He'd been hoping that they'd arrive at Big Mike's home, have a conversation that he'd lie through, and then he could get out of there and head off to Europe by himself.

It wasn't what had happened. Big Mike had opened the door before they'd even knocked with a plate full of chocolate chip cookies that she immediately shoved into Leon's hands. Then she'd motioned for Francis to follow her. "Watch TV or something, Leon! Francis and I are going to talk in my room!"

He'd been startled, probably mostly because he'd never really  _talked_ with Big Mike. He knew who she was, of course, and he'd visited her home a handful of times with Gillian, but he'd never really discussed anything with her.

He'd just followed her mutely down and hallway and then into a room where the first thing that he noticed was a  _gigantic_ fish tank that took up most of the wall. With a blue lobster sitting down at the bottom.

"That's Benny." She walked over to the corner of the room, where a set of padded chairs were set up against the wall. "Don't mind him. He likes visitors. Now let's sit down and you can tell me all about it."

And she did mean  _all_ about it. Francis's original plan was to just tell her what he thought she wanted to hear. But somehow… that didn't happen.

He was starting to understand Leon and other people's wariness around this woman. There was something about her that made it impossible to lie or hold anything back. She just asked a few innocent-sounding questions and before he knew it, he was telling her the whole story. How he'd just wanted to keep an eye on Arthur when he started acting up and then how Antonio had joined them. He'd done all he could to keep him innocent, but he'd failed. And then how he'd also failed when he tried to push Antonio away. His plan with Arthur and how it was only him now. He'd even told her about what he'd almost done with Antonio... How wrong it was when he knew that Antonio was in love with Lovina, even if neither of them realized it yet.

And she'd just sat there, nodding occasionally and asking calm questions when the streams of words started to slow. When he'd finished, nails digging into his palms as he clenched his hands into fists, she'd continued to sit there with a calm, relaxed expression. As if he hadn't just bared his soul out to her because she had hypnotic powers or something.

When she finally spoke, it was to ask, "How are your grades this semester?"

Which seemed a weird question. "I…guess they're okay? I've missed a lot of days, though."

"Then you should take the rest of the year off." And he just stared at her in shock as she stood and walked over to her dresser. Still totally relaxed. She slid the top drawer open and rifled around the contents for a little bit before she turned, holding an envelope. "You're a grade above most of your friends, right, sweetie? I think Leon's right that it might help to get out of this town for a little bit and I have quite a few friends that I'm sure wouldn't mind hosting you for a while. One of my friends in London owns an old bookshop, specializes in ancient books of prophecy. An incredibly nice man as long as you don't hurt any of his books."

"But…" Francis wasn't sure how to respond to that. "You want me to take a year off of high school?"

"Of course," she set the envelope down on top of his lap and pointed toward a pen. "Just write your legal guardian's contact information on that envelope and I'll get everything all settled for you, sweetheart. Education isn't going to do you any good if you're not feeling well enough to enjoy it. You go to Europe, have yourself some adventures, write to your friends all the time and send them pictures, and then come back home. You'll even all be in the same class when you come home."

Francis had laughed, sounding about as nerve-wracked as he felt. "If only it was that easy…"

"Course it's not easy, but you can take a step in the right direction." She continued to watch him with those calm, motherly eyes until he took the pen and scribbled the information onto the paper. Feeling almost like he was in some bizarre dream and none of this was real.

"Good. Now, you look like you could use some rest. You can have some cookies, if Leon hasn't eaten them all, then go home and get a good night's sleep. Things'll look better once you've got some sweets and sleep in you."

And that's how the conversation had gone. He'd followed Big Mike to the living room, where they found Leon sprawled out on the couch, watching some random late-night talk show with a half-empty plate of cookies resting on his stomach. He'd eaten a few of them, watching as the two of them argued about the latest prank she'd pulled on the mayor.

His thoughts were racing, falling all over themselves and tangling into a knotted mess. He hadn't known what to do or think.

Leon had taken him home; he'd just asked if Francis was doing okay and then didn't speak for the rest of the ride. He sang under his breath, though, his voice soothing and almost enough to send Francis off to sleep as he leaned against the cool window.

~.~.~

It took a little bit of shaking to wake Antonio up, but once he was fully-conscious, he practically attacked Francis with a massive hug.

"You'll call, sí? And send letters?"

"And presents!" Gillian had left her planes for the moment and grabbed onto one of Francis's hands. "Lots of presents!"

"Oui." He hugged Antonio back, trying not to focus too much on the scent, the feel of being so close to his best friend. "I'll call and write. And send presents. You might get tired of presents after a while."

Gill scoffed at that, like the idea was absolutely ridiculous.

Antonio finally released him and Gill immediately took his place, throwing her arms around Francis and squeezing as hard as she could. And then, in a soft voice that he almost didn't hear, she said "I'm gonna miss you, Franny."

"I'll miss you too, Gilly. But I'll be coming back soon."

"You better or I'll fly my jet and hunt you down!" She stepped back and gave him her fiercest look. "And next time you go to Europe, Antonio and I get to come too!"

He laughed at that. "Of course, Gilly." Then he glanced over at Leon and raised an eyebrow in an inviting fashion.

And was immediately shot down. "Yeah, no. Now come on, you don't wanna miss your flight." He turned, waiting as Antonio and Gillian both gave him another hug and he went to retrieve his carry-on. Then they walked together toward security.

"You'll keep an eye on them?" he asked as they took their place in line.

Leon nodded, "I'd better if we want the town to still be in one piece when you get back."

"And Arthur?" He'd been a little surprised that Arthur hadn't shown up to see him off, but then again, Gill was still pretty pissed off at him.

"Of course."

Francis sighed, watching as the people in the front of the line removed their shoes. "You know you don't have to come with me. I can find the gate on my own."

He shrugged. "Grandmother gave me  _explicit_  directions to come with you. And trust me; you don't ignore Grandmother's explicit directions. Besides, I want to make sure you don't accidentally get on the wrong plane or something."

Francis grinned and then hurriedly moved to remove his own shoes, placing them in the little box with his wallet and carry-on. Then he stepped through the metal detectors, smirking as he glanced back to see Leon struggling with his own shoes. Probably pissing off everyone behind them.

When they'd finally both gone through, he continued, "I thought of something…for Arthur."

"What?" They weren't bothering to hurry, since he had around a half an hour still to wait for his flight. He wondered if Leon would stay all that time or if he'd leave as soon as they'd found his gate.

He grinned. "Class President."

Leon just stared at him for a minute, as if he'd just spoken in Swahili or something. Then he repeated, "Class President? I don't even know if he's going to  _pass_ right now, let alone be class president."

"You could talk to the principal and explain the situation, though? I know it's something Arthur would want… He's actually incredibly intelligent and he enjoys things like that. He's just stubborn and a true 'rebel without a cause'. And it can't hurt to  _try_."

It was pretty easy to tell that he had him. Leon frowned as they passed by some gates, a coffee shop… Then he sighed and shrugged. "I can talk to him. No promises, though."

"Oui, of course." And there was his gate to London, England. Where he'd meet with Big Mike's bookstore friend.

Leon noticed it at almost the exact same moment. And he stopped, glancing around at his surroundings for a few moments before he remarked almost uncomfortably, "Well…hopefully you can't get lost now."

"You never know, cher." He glanced toward the sign overhead that stated all the arrival and departure times. Forty minutes now. "I may get bored and wander off and find myself on a flight to Zimbabwe."

Leon's lips dipped into a slight frown, and then he sighed. "Is that a not-subtle way of asking me to stay and keep you company?"

"Oui," he admitted unashamedly. After all, he didn't want to stay here alone when he  _could_ be sitting here with an attractive man. He set his backpack on the floor and dipped into one of the outside pockets, pulling out a pack of cards. "Poker?"

And Leon looked incredibly put-upon, which was a hilariously adorable expression on his face. But he nodded and started walking toward the sitting area. "Sure, fine."


	53. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley are crossed over from the wonderful book Good Omens. ;) I'm using the fanon name "Ezra Fell" for Aziraphale because…they're supposed to be humans and all. And Crowley has his human name from the book.

Francis would never admit it to Arthur, not even if someone threatened him with a maiming, but he rather liked London. He still infinitely preferred the beauty of Paris—and he travelled there every weekend—but London had its own unique charms.

And two of said charms were his hosts. Well, technically Big Mike's friend, Ezra Fell, was his only host. He was nice, a little scary when it came to his books—Francis had learned during the first week here to never  _ever_ eat anything while looking over one of his books. But he was friendly when it came to most other things. He'd ask Francis about his day when he came home and always seemed interested in what he told him.

Francis didn't spend a ton of time with him, though. Ezra liked to spend his time reading and it was pretty hard to gain his attention once he'd opened up one of his old, dusty tomes. He actually spent more time with Ezra's "friend"—possibly his boyfriend; he hadn't quite figured that out yet—Anthony J. Crowley.

Francis definitely liked Anthony; he showed up at the bookshop, which Ezra and now Francis lived above, completely out of the blue almost every day. Francis wasn't sure what he did as a career, but he looked like some sort of mob boss. (He'd shared that fact with Gillian in an early letter and now she wanted him to tell her  _everything_ about Mr. Crowley.) The man always showed up wearing dark suits and a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses that he never removed, even when he came indoors. He also had a strange speech defect; it sounded like he was hissing on his 's's, especially when he was angry or otherwise upset.

Francis had offered to help Ezra with dusting and shelving the books as payment for his room when he'd first arrived. He didn't need to, as Ezra had told him, but Francis didn't like feeling like he was mooching off someone. So sometimes he'd be working among the stacks when Anthony showed up. And he'd shamelessly eavesdrop as they bickered like an old married couple. Anthony liked to bother Ezra while he was trying to work; he'd usually ask him to go out drinking or to go visit a fancy restaurant and Ezra would say that he was too busy, but then would give in after enough badgering.

If they  _weren't_  in l'amour already, then Francis would definitely try to hook them up. He'd have to figure it out…

Anyway, so Francis liked both of his hosts. Ezra was kind, intelligent, and actually seemed to care about him, even if he was just a temporary guest. And he enjoyed talking about this and that with Anthony; he had excellent taste in things like wine, clothing, and food. Unlike  _most_  Englishmen.

Francis had woken up this morning and went through his usual routine, while considering what he wanted to do. One of the best things about living with Ezra was the freedom that he was allowed. He had plenty of freedom at home as well, but that was just because no one particularly  _cared_ what he did. Ezra just seemed to trust him. He'd taught him about the Tube and bus system, told him which stops to get off on to see which sites, and then told him that as long as he was home by ten each night, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted.

He could visit the National Gallery today. That was always enjoyable as long as you didn't get sandwiched between groups of children on field trips. Or he could visit that place that made fantastic milkshakes and then take a walk around the park to burn off the calories.

He'd sent letters to Gill and Antonio yesterday and was about halfway through his letters to Leon and Arthur. Maybe he'd go write his letters and people watch in Trafalgar Square.

Francis had half convinced himself to go and do that when he glanced out of the window and saw Anthony Crowley kneeling on the sidewalk. Which definitely was surprising. And he seemed to be fiddling with something on the ground.

Well, that looked  _incredibly_ interesting.

Francis hurriedly grabbed his boots from underneath the bed and hopped into them before running downstairs and out the front door. Passing Ezra, who glanced up from his book just in time to catch the back of his head.

"Morning, Ezra!" Francis called back, not waiting for a response before he ran up to the street, quickly glanced both ways and then rushed across to where Anthony was still kneeling on the sidewalk.

He was muttering to himself and didn't even notice as Francis stopped beside him.

"Fucking bloody cheap glue."

"What are you doing?"

Anthony jolted at Francis's sudden question. And dropped the object he'd been holding, which clattered against the sidewalk and then spun around like a little top before falling a few inches away.

It was a coin, a one pound coin to be more precise.

"God damn it, Francis. Don't sssneak up on me like that."

Francis bent down and picked up the coin, which was covered in what he assumed was some sort of glue. It didn't take too long to piece the clues together. "You were trying to glue a coin to the sidewalk?"

He knew he sounded rather shocked, because this was a  _child's_ prank. Not even a particularly  _good_ child's prank. Anthony had definitely seemed well above  _children's_ pranks.

And he immediately sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, sending him a defensive look. "Becaussse of course you've never wanted to sssee what would happen."

There were a few people who sent them looks like they were crazy—and they probably  _looked_ like they were crazy—but most passed by without a second glance. Ah, big city life. People had pretty much seen it all.

"Help me, inssstead of jussst ssstanding there."

Francis knelt down beside him, settling on the balls of his feet so he didn't dirty his clothes. "Why are you gluing a coin on the sidewalk?"

Anthony sent him a warning look. "Becaussse itsss funny. Now go get me sssome actual sssuper glue from the bookssstore."

"Sure," Francis stood. This still seemed like a weird thing for a grown man to do, but at the same time… Why not? Gill liked to come up with off-the-wall plans that he helped her with just because he enjoyed seeing how excited she got.

Ezra glanced up when he walked in and smiled. "Good morning, Francis."

"Morning," he walked over to the counter, which was currently covered with stacks and stacks of books. Ezra had cleared a little space so he could see into the shop, but otherwise it was just  _books everywhere._ "Do you have super glue?"

It probably said something that Ezra didn't even look surprised. He just bent down, opened a drawer, and then returned with a small tube of super glue. "He's gluing coins to the sidewalk again, isn't he?"

"He does this  _often_?"

Ezra shrugged and picked up one of the books from on top of his stack. "Just when he's bored. Why don't you see if he'll take a stroll in Hyde Park with you? I can give you some bread so you can feed the ducks." He bent down again and returned with a bread bag that now held handfuls of bread crumbs.

Apparently Ezra liked to keep really random stuff in his desk. Somehow that didn't surprise Francis at all.

Francis hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the door that led outside, then down at the tube of glue in his hand. And then he smirked, "Maybe later. I'm actually  _quite_  curious to see how this turns out."

It was probably one of the side effects of hanging out with Gill so often, but the idea of watching a bunch of random strangers fall all over themselves trying to grab a coin hot-glued to the sidewalk was actually really entertaining.

Ezra didn't look too concerned. He just opened his book and turned to the first page. "Have fun, then, dear."

Francis smirked, then turned and hurried out the front door. "You too!" he called back before the door slammed closed behind him.

Ezra sat there in silence for a few minutes, reading his book. He didn't even look up when the door slammed open again and Anthony and Francis burst inside. Noisily, of course, since neither of them seemed to understand that a bookstore should remain  _quiet_. They didn't remain long, however, as they hurriedly ran to the stairs that led up to his apartment. Not before they shouted quick greetings to him over their shoulders, though, because at least  _Francis_ knew how to be polite.

He continued reading, part of his mind on the book and part on the fact that he would have to call Mike later tonight. Let her know that Francis was really doing  _much_  better now. He was actually enjoying himself like the child he was…

Maybe he'd even take him to that organ concert at St. Paul's. He'd probably enjoy that, although Anthony would gripe and complain, but eventually gave in because he'd developed a soft spot for the child that he'd never admit to.

And with those thoughts, Ezra settled himself more comfortably in his chair and focused all of his attention on his book while Francis and Anthony sat upstairs and mocked the misfortune of others.


End file.
